Nobody Important
by Heather Logan
Summary: Winter, 9 Meiji. Kenshin's wanderings take him to a coastal town. But one man there has seen him before. An ex-samurai comes face-to-face with his past -- and has to choose his future. (complete)
1. Default Chapter

** Nobody Important**

A Rurouni Kenshin fanfiction by Heather Logan 

(Disclaimer: This was written for fun, not profit. Kenshin belongs to Nobuhiro Watsuki.)

* * *

In the ninth year of Meiji,  
in the middle of winter,  
our tale begins....   
  
**Chapter 1**

Kenshin walked down the narrow dirt road that skirted the edge of the town, a gentle smile on his face but just a touch of anxiety showing in the corners of his eyes. He had almost cut it too close this time. It was a cold morning, but the fog had lifted since dawn, leaving the sky a bright robin's-egg blue. The early sunlight was streaming down strong and white and blazing red off the back of Kenshin's head. 

Normally he tried not to travel during the winter. The storms made it harder to get around and more dangerous to sleep in the open, and it wasn't as easy to find work on short notice during the off-season. He had thought he'd found a place to spend the winter, an inn in a large town on a major trade route that had needed an extra hand for the season, but that had been before the, ah, unfortunate incident. Kenshin had left cross-country in the middle of the night, heading north and then west across the mountains. That had been six weeks ago. 

A gust of wind hit him in the face, bringing with it the smell of the sea and a faint echo of gulls. Kenshin shivered and crossed his arms, tucking his fingers into the sleeves of his pink gi. He had his wide blue scarf wrapped around his neck and shoulders and tucked into the front of his gi; normally it would have been enough, but he was still chilled from the night before. 

His mistake had been trying to cross the mountains. Mountain villages were always hit hard by winter, even in the best of years, and none could afford to support a stranger. After the first week he'd bought nothing but cheap-grade rice, trying to stretch out his meager funds as long as possible. And it was harder than he'd thought to find wild foods in the mountains this time of year. The edible greens were gone by now and the first of the bulbs weren't up yet. The squirrels had gotten most of the nuts, though he had found a few, and at one point he'd come across a river deep enough to be unfrozen and managed to catch a few fish. The last of his rice had run out five days ago. 

The road dipped and rounded a line of buildings, and suddenly he was in the open, at the edge of a large cobbled plaza above the harbor. The town was big enough and far enough south that the harbor was active even at this time of year. It was mostly fishing boats, back already from their early morning runs, bobbing and splashing at the water's edge while gangs of large cheerful men hauled laden dripping baskets and gulls swarmed madly overhead. Kenshin's smile widened and his eyes sparkled. It surprised him sometimes how much he enjoyed it, just watching people going about their daily lives. 

The last few days he had pushed himself as hard as he could, starting off in the mornings at the first hint of dawn and walking long past the end of twilight, anything to get down out of the mountains and back to civilization. He'd finally come in sight of the sea late yesterday afternoon. After a brief stop by a creek on the hill above the town to wash and make himself a bit more presentable, he'd put on a smile and gone in search of work. This was standard practice. After eight years of wandering, he had it down to an art. He'd started with the larger inns and restaurants in the center of town, offering dish-washing or laundry or whatever needed doing in exchange for a meal and a roof for the night. 

As the last of the twilight was fading over the sea, early still though the days had started to get noticeably longer, he'd finally had some luck at a smallish restaurant on the edge of the warehouse district above the harbor. The proprietress hadn't had any work to spare herself -- winter was still the slow season, even in a harbor town of this size -- but she'd sent Kenshin over to her brother at one of the warehouses. He ran a small import-export trade in partnership with one of the merchant shippers, and his usual lifting-and-carrying boy had taken off the previous week with his family to visit his grandmother in the next village up the coast. Unfortunately, however, the ship wasn't to arrive until this morning, as Kenshin had learned only after spending half an hour wandering among blocks of identical warehouses before finding the one he was looking for. He'd felt a twinge of disappointment, but pushed it aside. These people were doing their best. Morning would be fine. 

Tired already from the long day of walking, he'd gone back up to the hill above town and set up camp by the light of the half-moon. He'd had a lot of experience with going hungry during his early childhood and again in the years since he'd become a rurouni, and he knew one more day wouldn't kill him. He found that after the first couple of days he didn't even feel hungry any more, just weak and a bit light-headed. So he had slept, albeit poorly, and waited for morning. He'd woken at dawn chilled to the bone, his slowing metabolism unable to keep up with the heat loss. It had taken him half an hour huddled over a hastily built fire before he'd stopped shivering. 

A seagull landed near him and inspected him with one shiny black eye, then hopped off across the cobblestones. Time to get to work. Kenshin took a deep breath and turned, scanning the edge of the water off to his right. At the end of the line of fishing boats were a couple of larger ships -- the merchants, he guessed. He set off briskly towards them. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"Oi, Kenshin-kun! Ohayoooh!" Tobe Hideki stood on the deck of the ship, waving one arm in the air while the other held a large canvas-wrapped bundle on his shoulder. He would not stand out among the men working in the harbor -- medium height, muscular build, with short black hair and a fringe of beard around his square jaw. His face and forearms were tanned, even in winter. He'd caught sight of Kenshin's distinctive red hair from halfway across the harbor. 

Kenshin looked up and waved. "Ohayou gozaimas', Hideki-dono!" He climbed briskly up the gangplank and stepped down onto the deck, stumbling a little as he did so and catching himself on the weathered cedar railing that ran around the deck's perimeter. It was a moment before he straightened up again. 

Hideki hurried over, concern written plain on his face. Kenshin looked pale, accentuating the dark smudges under his eyes and the large cross-shaped scar on his left cheek. 

"Hey, are you all right?" 

The moment passed, and Kenshin raised his eyes. "Yes, fine, thanks." 

Hideki frowned, but Kenshin did seem fine now, looking around the ship with a happy smile. He had his sandaled feet splayed outward for balance against the deck's rocking motion, any movement of his legs hidden by the long white hakama that hung to his ankles. 

Hideki shrugged. "Well, all right then. Our cargo's down there." He indicated the hold with a thumb. "We'll start with these bolts of cloth; I've got a client coming in for them later this morning." He patted the canvas-wrapped bundle on his shoulder. 

Kenshin nodded brightly and skipped down the stairs. The ship's hold was dark, with a jumble of boxes and bundles just visible in the light coming down from the open hatch. Hideki watched as Kenshin wrestled one of the wrapped bolts of cloth to his shoulder. 

"It's heavy..." Hideki heard him mumble. He smiled. Today's youth had no muscle. Kenshin climbed laboriously back up the stairs. 

"Oro--!" Kenshin's eyes popped as he watched Hideki lift the second bolt that he'd laid on the deck earlier. Hideki grinned, showing off a little, and strode down the gangplank like it was nothing. 

o-o-o 

They walked side by side across the harbor square and up one of the narrow dirt roads that led among the warehouses. Hideki eyed the sword hanging at his companion's waist and wondered. He knew that a lot of people had gone wandering after the revolution, mostly former samurai in search of a new start in life. Kenshin looked too young for that; he couldn't have been more than a kid during the war. Probably a samurai's son, Hideki thought, carrying his father's sword and wandering still, after all these years. 

Hideki cleared his throat to break the silence. "So, ah, Kenshin-kun. Do you have any place to go home to?" 

"I haven't. I'm a rurouni, that I am, with no home and no family." 

"Oh." He frowned. "Must be lonely." 

Kenshin shrugged. 

"So, how long have you been wandering, then? I was wondering about that sword you're carrying..." 

Kenshin looked away slightly, hiding his eyes behind his shaggy red bangs. "I would rather not..." 

Hideki grinned sheepishly and waved his hands in embarrassment. "No, no, of course not, forget I asked." He caught his bundles again before they could slide off his shoulders. "Here we are anyway; this is the place." 

Hideki's warehouse was a large simple wooden building with a wide doorway and a porch along the side facing the street, much the same as the other buildings in these few blocks next to the harbor. It looked clean and cheery in the winter sunshine, much more so than when Kenshin had first seen it dimly lamplit last evening. Inside it was spacious and tidy, an assortment of boxes and crates in various corners and a couple of bolts of cloth already stacked by the low table near the front of the room. 

"Eri should be here soon to look at this fabric-- Eri, that's the client I was mentioning. Anyway, I should get it labeled for her," Hideki said as Kenshin lowered his bundle onto the pile. "So I'll leave the rest of the carrying to you, if that's all right." 

"Yes, that it is. Thank you very much, Hideki-dono. I'll be right back." Kenshin bowed slightly, then turned with a smile and skipped down the steps. The rising breeze ruffled his long red ponytail as he walked back down the road toward the docks. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Kenshin came and went, and came and went, adding bundles to the stack in front of the table. Hideki was also working, removing the canvas wrapping from each bundle in turn and unrolling a few feet of cloth, then carefully rewrapping it and labeling it by material, color and pattern. The silks went on one side, the cottons on the other. 

As the morning wore on a thin layer of clouds had moved in from the west to meet the rising sun, and the breeze had grown stronger. A gust of wind swirled into the warehouse, spilling a stack of labels onto the floor. Hideki scrambled to gather them up and weight them down with a ceramic cup. When he looked up, there was a woman in the doorway. 

She was tall and elegant, impeccably dressed in a deep blue kimono. Her glossy black hair was parted down the center and gathered into an elaborate knot at the back of her head, complementing the symmetry of her oval face. 

"Eri!" Hideki grinned and gestured her in. "Come in, have a seat, make yourself comfortable. How is everything?" He crossed to the stack of silks, checking labels and selecting one. 

"Quite well, thank you." Eri slipped off her lacquered wooden clogs and settled herself on a cushion behind the low table. 

"I got the silks, and a bunch of cottons too. I think you'll like them." He laid the roll on the table and started to remove the canvas wrapping. 

At that moment Kenshin returned with another roll of cloth over his shoulder. "Ah, Kenshin-kun! Are there many more of those?" 

"Only three or four more, that there are." Kenshin knelt and laid the bundle next to the few remaining unlabeled ones, resting on his knees for a moment. 

"Great, great." Hideki turned to Eri. "Eri, this is Himura Kenshin," he continued, indicating Kenshin with an outstretched hand. "He's just passing through town; I hired him for the day since Yasunori-kun is away. Kenshin-kun, this is Yukawa Eri, my best customer and the finest clothing maker in all of Japan." 

Eri blushed and smiled behind her hand. Then to Kenshin, "Very nice to meet you." 

Kenshin got to his feet and smiled back. "Very nice to meet you too, Eri-dono." To Hideki, "I will continue, that I will." 

"Yes, good, bring the rest of the cloth and then we'll break for lunch." 

"Hai." Kenshin turned and walked back down the steps. Eri watched him go, a thoughtful look in her eyes. 

"Anyway," Hideki continued, "take a look at this." He finished unwrapping the bolt of silk and unrolled a few feet. It was a pale lemon yellow, accented with sprays of soft pink blossoms at intervals along one edge. 

Eri's calm gray eyes widened in excitement. "Ohhh, gorgeous! And it looks like yellow's going to be the new style this season." She stroked the fabric and tilted her head to one side. "These flower petals can go on the sleeves. What do you think?" She draped a fold of the cloth over her own long kimono sleeve. 

Hideki grinned and waved his hands. "Great, of course, but you know I have no eye for that kind of thing. Anyway, there's another yellow, a couple of blues..." he was rummaging among the rolls of cloth again. "By the way, how's your husband? I haven't seen him around for a while." 

"Shinichiro is..." She trailed off, frowning. "I don't know. I'm worried about him. There's something bothering him, but he won't tell me what it is." She paused, absently stroking the yellow silk, then leaned forward conspiratorially. "I think it has to do with those three men." 

Hideki looked up and raised his eyebrows. "What, the ones with the horses?" 

"Yes. Since they came to town Shinichiro'd been asking around about them, trying to pick up gossip. But then they came to our house -- our house, can you believe it? That was a couple of nights ago. I got home just as they were leaving. Since then Shinichiro won't talk about them at all, even when I ask." She paused, lowering her voice. "I'm pretty sure they're samurai." 

"But you don't recognize any of them?" 

"No. But I'm sure Shinichiro knows who they are. Certainly after that visit." She glanced at the open doorway, quirking her eyebrows, then turned back to Hideki. "That's why I'm wondering about your Himura-san. He's carrying a sword. I wonder if he's connected to them." 

Hideki thought about it. "I... don't think so. Kenshin-kun just got here yesterday afternoon. And he looks like he's been sleeping in a hedge. Those three horsemen are staying at the best inn in town." He paused, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Though I was wondering about that too. Maybe Shinichiro might have known his parents--" Eri laid a warning hand on his arm at the sound of Kenshin's footstep on the stair. 

"That's all right," she said, "we can discuss it later." She glanced up. "I'll take all the silks, and I'll also want several rolls of the cottons." 

Kenshin had knelt to lay down another bundle of cloth. He leaned on it with one arm for a little longer than necessary, then took a deep breath and straightened up. 

"Maybe you can show me the patterns?" Eri continued. "I want nice bold stuff, for yukatas." 

"Sure." Hideki got up to rummage among the stack of cottons, Eri watching him. 

There was a crash, a thud, then silence. Hideki and Eri looked up with a start. 

"Kenshin-kun?" Hideki called. "Kenshin!" No reply. They exchanged a wide-eyed look and bolted for the door. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"...oro..." Kenshin was sprawled on the ground at the foot of the stairs, shakily trying to lift his head. A stiff gust of wind ruffled his hair and made ripples run across the back of his gi. 

Hideki clattered down the steps. "Kenshin! Are you all right?" 

Kenshin had gotten his knees under him and was leaning on both hands, head down, taking careful deep breaths. He blinked several times and raised his eyes from the ground. "S- sumimasen..." 

Hideki had crouched down next to him. "Take it easy. What's wrong? Are you hurt anywhere?" He laid a steadying hand on Kenshin's shoulder and peered into his face. 

"No..." Kenshin sat up, and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. He was still breathing in that odd controlled way. "I'll be... I'll be all right... that I will. Just... give me a minute, please." 

Hideki was frowning. "You're shivering." He thought for a moment. "Look, I'm going to take you over to my sister's place, get you warmed up and give you a chance to rest a bit, okay? Do you think you can stand?" 

Kenshin nodded. 

Hideki turned to Eri, who was hovering uncertainly at the top of the stairs. "Eri, I'm taking him over to Akane's. Have a look at the cottons if you like; I'll be back in a few minutes." He helped Kenshin to his feet and caught him when he reeled, wrapping a strong arm around his shoulders. 

o-o-o 

Tobe Akane's restaurant was only a few blocks away, but Hideki was half-carrying Kenshin by the time he got there. He ducked through the back door into the kitchen, kicking off his sandals, then pausing while Kenshin did the same. "Nee-chan? Oi, nee-chan!" 

The kitchen was warm and steamy and loud, seeming full of activity though there were only two people there -- a gangly young man frantically chopping root vegetables and a girl ladling soup into a series of bowls. A broad-shouldered woman bustled in through the other door. 

"Eiko-chan! Miso and tea for five, third table on the left!" 

"Hai!" The girl grabbed a tray and started loading bowls and cups onto it. 

"Aki-kun, is that soba done yet? Don't overcook it. Oh, Hideki, didn't see you at first; and that wanderer from last night." She raised her black eyebrows in alarm. "What have you done to him?" 

Kenshin was gazing around blearily, his eyes wide and a small frown on his face. Hideki was still holding him up, one of Kenshin's arms slung over his shoulder. 

"He's wiped out. Can I leave him here to rest and get warmed up?" They lowered Kenshin into a corner, where he leaned gratefully against the wall. 

"And try to get him to eat something," Hideki continued quietly to his sister. "I could feel his ribs right through his clothes." 

o-o-o 

Kenshin huddled in the corner of the kitchen, between the interior wall on one side and a large cupboard on the other. The stove radiated warmth four feet in front of him as Akane sauteed and shouted orders to her two assistants. He shifted his fingers on the half-empty bowl of miso soup that he held cupped in both hands, and sipped a little more of the hot liquid. He still felt cold, despite the stove, the hot soup and the blanket wrapped around him. Akane had sent the girl Eiko running upstairs for that when he'd still been shivering twenty minutes after Hideki had dropped him off. 

Kenshin wasn't sure whether he'd actually passed out on the stairs at Hideki's warehouse. He didn't remember hitting the ground, though he could feel the bruises starting on his knees and shoulder and above his right eyebrow, and there were scratches on his left palm. For a few minutes after that everything had been strange, his vision washed out and spotted with black and his head ringing. Hideki had been talking to him and he'd replied; he hoped he hadn't said anything untoward. It was worrying. Could he be getting sick? Unlikely; it had happened only a few times in his life, although those times had been pretty bad. He hoped he wasn't. It would be awkward. 

He shifted and re-crossed his legs, leaning his head against the wall. He was embarrassed that he'd been so weak, and that he hadn't finished the job of unloading Hideki's shipment, and that he was making these people worry about him. Akane had fussed over him when there'd been a lull in the stream of orders, exclaiming at his cold hands and spooning extra tofu from the bottom of the miso pot into the bowl she gave him. He'd accepted the soup gratefully and managed to drink about half of it by now, but he was far more tired than hungry. He laid the half-empty bowl on the floor in front of him and let his eyes drift closed. Just for a little while.... 


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Eiko hummed to herself as she gathered the used bowls and cups from the low wooden tables in the dining room. Akane was sitting with the last remaining group of lunch customers, some old friends of hers, chatting over tea. Eiko brushed through the half-curtain into the kitchen and dropped off her tray-load of dirty dishes at the sink. Aki was doing the washing-up. He gave her a smile, in his usual shy way. 

She glanced over at the red-haired stranger napping in the corner near the stove. Now here was someone interesting. She had taken the opportunity to get a closer look at him an hour ago, when she'd been steeping tea at the stove. He'd been sleeping peacefully, a slight smile lifting the corners of his eyes and softening his sharp features. Kawaii... 

He still had a miso bowl in front of him. Eiko went to get it -- it was only half empty, he must not have been very hungry -- and took the opportunity to crouch down and peer into his face. He didn't look quite so peaceful any more. His cheeks were flushed, his breathing a little too fast. Eiko frowned, a vertical crease appearing between her thin black eyebrows. She passed the miso bowl to her other hand and brushed the backs of her fingers lightly against Kenshin's cheek. 

"Eiko-chan!" 

She snatched back her hand and jumped to her feet, blushing guiltily. 

"Don't bother our guest while he's sleeping." Akane was busily unloading a tray of tea mugs onto the dish board. 

"Gomen! I didn't wake him up, though." 

"You're lucky." She took the miso bowl from Eiko and tsk'ed at its remaining contents, then passed it to Aki at the sink. 

"Ano... Akane-san..." 

"Hmm?" 

"That is... he has a fever." 

"What?" Akane raised her eyebrows. "Ohh, I was afraid of something like that..." She crouched down in front of Kenshin and laid the back of her hand on his cheek, then brushed aside his shaggy red bangs to feel his forehead. Kenshin stirred and mumbled something unintelligible. 

"He must have caught a chill." Akane sat back on her heels and chewed on a thumbnail for a moment. "Hmm. Well, we can't leave him sleeping here. Eiko-chan, you know where I keep the spare futon? Upstairs, cupboard at the very end of the hall?" 

Eiko nodded. 

"Could you run up and lay it out in the back room?" 

"Hai!" Eiko dashed out. 

Akane turned back to the sleeping Kenshin. "Kenshin?" She shook his shoulder gently. "Kenshin, wake up." 

He stirred, started sliding sideways down the wall, and jerked awake. He blinked up blearily at Akane for a second, two seconds, then his eyes cleared. 

"Akane-dono." He took a deep breath and sat up straight, the blanket sliding down from his shoulders, and rubbed the back of one hand across his eyes. "I fell asleep..." 

"That's all right, Kenshin, but you shouldn't sleep here in the kitchen, you'll be underfoot. I'll take you upstairs. You can sleep there." 

"Oro?" He looked up at her blankly. 

"Upstairs. It's fine, don't worry." She nodded at him encouragingly. 

"Arigatou gozaimas'." He climbed to his feet, one hand on the wall for support, while Akane gathered up the blanket, folding it deftly and draping it over her arm. Kenshin reached down for his sword and settled it through the piece of cloth tied around his waist. 

"Aki-kun, brew up another pot of tea for me, would you?" Akane continued. "I'll be down for it in a minute. And don't drip soap suds on the floor." 

"Ha- hai." 

With that, Akane led Kenshin out through the small foyer between the kitchen and the dining room and up the stairs, supporting him with a firm hand on his elbow. She met Eiko at the top of the stairs and sent her down to help Aki with the continuing cleanup. 

When Kenshin saw the futon laid out and ready, he backpedaled, starting to protest. "Really, Akane-dono, there's no need... Please don't trouble yourself on my behalf-" 

"Not a word of it," she interrupted him. "Now put this on--" she thrust a pale blue yukata into Kenshin's hands, provoking a startled 'oro!'-- "and I'll be back in a minute." She stepped out and slid the door shut. 

Smiling to herself at the look of wide-eyed surprise that had been on Kenshin's face, she skipped back down the stairs. She took the teapot from Aki and poured a cup of the pale green liquid, then added two spoons of sugar, half a spoon of salt and a big pinch of bonito flakes and stirred it briskly. Vile, yes, but it worked like a charm on sick people who needed to keep their strength up. 

When she returned, Kenshin was sitting cross-legged on the floor next to the futon, already starting to nod off. He'd folded his clothes neatly and stacked them on the other side of the futon, with the sword on top. 

"Here Kenshin, drink this," she said softly, laying a hand on his shoulder and handing him the steaming cup. He took a sip and grimaced. "I know it tastes awful, but try to drink it all." 

It took him a while, but he did so, then thanked her again. Akane took the empty cup. Kenshin looked up at her with such a mix of conflicting emotions -- uncertainty, gratitude, guilt -- that she had to smile. "Get some sleep," she said. "We'll find you something to do in return later, when you feel better." With that, she left him alone, sliding the door firmly shut behind her. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The dinner rush was smaller than the lunch rush down here near the harbor, but still Akane's dining room was mostly full, keeping her bustling back and forth to the kitchen, passing around miso and noodles, setting up hot-pots, showing Aki how to cook tempura without burning it. She had run upstairs a couple of times during the afternoon to check on Kenshin; he was still feverish, but sleeping soundly, and she hadn't woken him. 

The Yukawas had come in for dinner tonight. Akane plonked down five orders of fried fish at the big table near the door, put Eiko on serving duty, and went to chat with the couple. 

Yukawa Eri was sipping her miso thoughtfully as Shinichiro munched his rice and tempura. Akane topped off their tea mugs and slid in next to the other woman. 

Eri was one of her very best friends, though she'd only known her for a little more than six years. On the surface, Eri had nothing in common with her -- she was slim and elegant where Akane was broad-shouldered and earthy, soft-spoken and demure where Akane was loud and brash, a dutiful wife where Akane was defiantly single, a recent-arrived immigrant in a deep-rooted village where Akane's ancestors had lived for generations. But underneath, they understood each other deeply. 

"Well, Eri, how's life?" 

Easily, they fell into their old banter, trading stories of life and work and the latest gossip. Between Akane's harbor-side clientele and Eri's more upscale clothing customers, they had the town's news wrapped up. Soon Eri was smiling genuinely, her gray eyes twinkling. Shinichiro watched them quietly, his expression occupied and thoughtful. 

It had been the autumn of the second year of Meiji when Eri and Shinichiro had come to this town, penniless and desperate. Akane and Hideki and their mother had taken them in at the restaurant for a while, Eri helping Akane run the restaurant while Shinichiro stayed in the kitchen helping Akane's mother, who had still insisted on overseeing the cooking. That had been around the time when Hideki was just getting started in the import-export trade, and he'd helped the Yukawas get ahold of a steady supply of fabric when they'd started their clothing business (initially out of the second floor of the Tobes' restaurant). That had been Eri's idea; she could sew faster than anyone Akane had met, and had an intuitive eye for patterns, being able to reproduce just about any fashion she saw. 

Shinichiro had always been more withdrawn. He had never really become close to Hideki, who was a few years younger than the rest of them. He had followed Eri's lead on their major decisions -- the clothing business, then later building their house in the upper part of town near the main road east into the mountains. He never complained, at least not that Akane had heard about, but it was clear to her that his heart wasn't in it. 

Another group of customers arrived, and Eiko shot her a desperate look as she hurried past. Akane chuckled. "Eri, Shinichiro, can you stay for a while? I'd better go rescue Eiko-chan before she panics." 

o-o-o 

The dinner rush had died down. Hideki had arrived a little while ago through the kitchen door, shaking water out of his spiky black hair. The wind had brought in a steady cold rain, which showed no sign of letting up. 

Akane lent Aki her umbrella and sent him to walk Eiko home, then went to rejoin her friends. Hideki soon joined them as well with a fresh pot of tea and a jar of sake. Eri was asking after the red-haired rurouni. 

"Yes, how is he?" Hideki asked. "He's not in the kitchen. He didn't take off, did he? Not in this weather, I hope." He glanced at the ceiling and frowned, tapping a finger on his bearded chin. 

"No, he's still here," Akane said. "He's come down with a fever. I've got him sleeping upstairs." 

Eri looked up, an idea in her eyes, and pursed her painted lips. "Hmm. Shinichiro dear, maybe you should take a look at him." 

Akane knew Shinichiro had some medical experience; Eri had told her stories of how he'd supported them -- barely -- as a travelling herbalist in the year before they'd arrived in this town. 

Shinichiro looked up. "Sure, ok. I'll take a look at him. But if he's bad you should probably call a real doctor." 

o-o-o 

Darkness. Quiet. Then a sound, which slowly resolved itself into someone calling his name. 

"Kenshin. Kenshin." 

Kenshin opened his eyes. He was curled up on his left side on the futon, nestled in the quilt, and the room was quite dark. An orangish blur resolved into a sideways view of Akane's striped apron in the dim yellow lamplight. She was kneeling in front of him with a reassuring smile on her square face -- really surprisingly similar to Hideki's -- and she was telling him something. He blinked a few times and concentrated harder. 

"-- in for dinner this evening and brought her husband, Yukawa Shinichiro. He has some experience with medicinal herbs so we thought we'd ask him to take a look at you." She glanced up to her left. "Shinichiro?" 

A man joined her, as she scooted over to make room for him. He was tall and lanky with a long aristocratic face framed by straight brown hair that fell to his shoulders. His level brows were drawn together and his wide mouth set in a frown as he looked at Kenshin intently, his hazel eyes narrowed. 

Before Kenshin could sit up to introduce himself properly Shinichiro had gotten to work, feeling Kenshin's forehead and pressing two fingers into the side of his throat for a pulse. He had a quizzical expression on his face, like he was trying to remember something. Then he was talking to Akane. 

"Since mid-day, you said?" 

"That's right." 

"And no respiratory symptoms, no cough or difficulty breathing?" 

Akane shook her head. 

"Good, then it's probably nothing serious. His fever's not too high; it should run its course in a day or two. But keep an eye on him anyway." 

Kenshin had finally gotten it together enough to sit up. His body ached all over and he felt terribly weak, but he no longer had that awful sensation of being about to black out, thank goodness. 

"Nice to meet you," Kenshin started to say, as Shinichiro turned back towards him. His eyes fell fully on Kenshin's face for the first time and he froze for a heartbeat, then recoiled, his eyes snapping wide. Kenshin drew back a little, feeling the change in Shinichiro's body language as a physical thing. His already elevated pulse rate quickened, and the sudden surge of adrenaline cleared his head and sharpened his vision, sending the aching in his body into the distant background. 

Does he know me? Kenshin thought. He searched his memory frantically. No, he'd never seen this man before, nor had he recognized the name. What was going on? 

Shinichiro had composed himself rapidly, wiping the shock off his face, though Kenshin could still feel tension radiating off his body as he got to his feet. 

"Like I said, keep an eye on him; the fever should run its course in a day or two," Shinichiro said, his voice smooth and normal, as he gathered up the lamps and headed for the door, drawing Akane with him. 

"Hang on a second," she said, taking one of the lamps and turning back to Kenshin, who was watching wide-eyed, still kneeling on the futon. "Kenshin? Can I bring you anything?" she asked, setting the lamp next to his bedding. 

"No, thank you, I'm fine, that I am." His voice sounded thin in his own ears. 

"Good, then, I'll leave this lamp here. Just put it out when you want to go back to sleep." She patted him affectionately on the shoulder and joined Shinichiro in the hallway, sliding shut the door. 

Kenshin stared at the closed door for a long time after they had gone, his left hand raised absently to the cross-shaped scar on his cheek. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

"Himura Kenshin. Hah!" Yukawa Shinichiro pushed his hands through his hair, shaking it back from his temples, and took a deep breath. His eyes were wandering restlessly across the table. They lit on the sake jar; he poured himself a cup and downed it in one gulp. "You have no idea what you're sheltering up there." 

The Tobe siblings were sitting across from him, both leaning forward with their forearms resting on the table, almost comically identical. Akane looked angry, Hideki looked bewildered, and his wife-- Eri, sitting beside him, looked afraid. Shinichiro ran his hands through his hair again. 

"What are you-" Akane began, but he cut her off. 

"You won't understand -- you CAN'T understand without having seen it. There's a story I have to tell you. About the revolution." He poured another cup of sake, sipped it, then put it down and leaned forward. "It was the last year of the Bakumatsu. Summer. The last summer before the start of open war. The Kyoto municipal government was finally getting desperate enough to listen to reason and call in the samurai in force. The best of three districts." He paused. "Heh. The Shinsengumi may have been good, but they weren't born to it." 

He looked around the table. The Tobes were watching him with wide eyes, their lips slightly parted, both of them. Eri had lowered her eyes to the table, her face a mask. He knew she didn't like it when he talked about the revolution. She had supported fully his decision to go to war -- she understood the duty and the honor, she was a true daughter of samurai -- but since that time it seemed something had changed in her, not to mention in the rest of the world. He patted her hand gently. 

"We'd been working with the Shinsengumi, setting up a big raid against the Ishin Shishi rebels. The Shinsengumi's spies had located a bunch of their hideouts, and we raided them all that night, all at once. It worked. 

"We figured we had most of the leaders -- Okubo, Katsura.... Of course they fled, but we expected that and made sure they fled towards the river. We'd done the raids in an arc, so we would always be behind them. And the Shinsengumi were holding the bridges." He smiled coldly, showing his teeth. 

"They must have started figuring it out at some point, as the groups met up, started realizing they were being herded. We had the main body of them headed down one of the main avenues towards the river, with two other groups being driven in from either side." He indicated with his hands, a wedge-shaped motion. 

"Four blocks from the river there's a major intersection, where a bunch of streets and alleys come together with the main road. We'd had troops coming down the whole maze of them, timed to meet up all at once and keep the Ishin Shishi moving in the right direction. I was up on the rooftop -- we had a bunch of scouts and runners, to keep the timing right -- so I could see what was happening better than our men on the ground. 

"Just as they were clearing the intersection, it happened. One of the Ishin Shishi swordsmen suddenly turned back, running flat out from their rear line back towards our main unit. I thought he was a bystander at first, caught up in the raid. He didn't look like a swordsman. Our troop didn't realize what was happening until it was too late. He just cut right into them, scattered them, turned them every which way. One person... it was impossible. The way he moved... They couldn't even touch him." He paused and took a deep breath, glancing around, his hazel eyes haunted, and dropped his voice. 

"No human being can move like that. It was just not possible. I had a good view from the rooftop and the street was lit up with lanterns, but I kept losing track of him, in spite of the red hair. He cut right through the troop -- I know those samurai, some of the best there are -- and they couldn't even touch him. He could have slaughtered them all, but he just drove them back long enough for the Ishin Shishi to scatter up all the side streets. Then he disappeared." 

"I learned later from the Shinsengumi who he was. A hitokiri for the Choshuu faction, called Battousai. Himura Battousai. I tried to find out who he was, where he'd come from, but he wasn't from any clan I'd ever heard of. A lot of the Ishin Shishi were samurai, but not him, apparently. A peasant." 

Shinichiro took a deep breath, blew it out, and continued. "Our trap was a complete failure. Almost all of them got away. We managed to kill a few of them, but we lost a lot of good men. 

"The Shinsengumi blamed us, of course. The morons. That started infighting, wrecked our unity. We never had as good a chance as that night to stop it all, and Battousai wrecked it for us. I never saw him again. Until now." He looked around the table, running his hands through his hair again. 

"It can't be," Akane whispered. "He's just a-" 

"I didn't recognize him at first," Shinichiro continued. "His... eyes... are different somehow. But the red hair and that cross-shaped scar -- it's Battousai, for sure." 

There was a long pause. 

"All right then," Akane said slowly, her eyebrows quirked. "All right then." She nodded, once, regaining her momentum. "So Kenshin was a swordsman in the revolution." So were you, she didn't say. "Are you trying to tell us he's dangerous?" She sounded defensive, challenging him. 

"You still don't understand." Shinichiro looked around at them, dismayed. "Don't you see? He's not just a swordsman. It should have ended that night. We should have stamped out the Ishin Shishi once and for all. The revolution should never have happened! Our strategy was perfect -- we COULD NOT have failed. But we did. Because of him!" He looked back and forth between the Tobes, frustrated. They still didn't get it. "This world-- this whole Meiji era--" 

Eri laid her hand over his, distracting him and sapping his momentum. 

"Wait a minute," Hideki said slowly. He was frowning, working something out. "Something doesn't fit here. If Kenshin's some big Ishin Shishi hero from the revolution... Didn't all the Ishin Shishi leaders throw away their swords and take up posts in the new government?" He ticked off points on his fingers. "So why was he out wandering in the middle of winter, carrying a sword, sleeping in the open and looking like he hasn't eaten in days?" He glanced at Eri. "That's why I assumed he was a samurai's kid. Um. No offense." 

"Battousai never joined the government," Shinichiro said. "He disappeared. After the battle of Toba Fushimi, the first decisive battle of the war." 

"Then what's he been doing, all this time?" Hideki looked at Shinichiro, suspicion growing in his eyes. 

"The sword." Shinichiro slapped the table decisively. "Let me see his sword. I'll be able to tell if it's been... used, recently." 

Akane shuddered, then nodded reluctantly. "All right. I'll get it." 


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

The faint scrape of a sword being drawn brought Kenshin instantly awake out of a deep sleep, already rolling off the futon. His hand closed on empty air where his sword should have been and he snatched it back, accelerating, triangulating the sound (downstairs, kitchen) as he moved. He was on his feet, two quick steps, and his fingers stopped an inch from the sliding door. He could hear voices now from downstairs. They were too faint to make out the words, but the tone was calm. He stepped to one side and pressed his back lightly against the interior wall, the door on his right, and waited. 

o-o-o 

"Isn't the blade supposed to be on the curved side?" Akane reached out and ran a finger along the blunt convex edge of the naked sword in Shinichiro's hand. 

"It's a sakabatou. Reverse-bladed." Shinichiro looked up, incomprehension on his face. "I don't understand. A sword like this is useless. Why would Battousai-- why would ANYONE carry a sword like this?" 

"Well?" Hideki peered at the blade. "Has it been used recently?" 

"Used? For what?" Shinichiro scoffed. "No, the blade is clean, no trace of blood. It doesn't even look like it's been used at all; see, the blade's like new, no chips or nicks in it." 

"All right then," Akane cut in. "He stays. At least for tonight. And I'm putting this back." She reached for the sword. Shinichiro started to protest, but she held out a hand. "This way he won't know that we know. And right now I doubt he could make it down the stairs without help, let alone slash anyone." 

Shinichiro held her eyes for a long moment, then sheathed the sword in a quick motion and handed it over. "I'm not happy about this. But it's your house." 

o-o-o 

Akane eased the sliding door open just wide enough to slip through and stepped into the darkened room, the sheathed sword in one hand, her socks silent on the tatami. She could just see the small stack of Kenshin's clothes next to the futon -- 

The futon was empty. Akane whirled around. 

All she could see were his eyes, narrowed and gleaming, throwing back the dim yellow lamplight that streamed in from the hall. 

Then the moment passed, he moved a little, or her eyes adjusted to the dark, and she could see him properly, draped in the too-big yukata and leaning heavily against the wall, his eyes that odd shade of blue-violet, his face pale and tired. She blew out the breath she'd been holding and glanced down at the sword in her hands. 

"Sumimasen," she said, her voice formal. "I've done something very rude." 

"Akane-dono. Is everything all right?" He was watching her, wary and anxious, still leaning on the wall. 

Fine, she thought, everything's fine, go back to bed, Kenshin. But that first sight of his eyes had frightened her, made her doubt her own earlier impressions, and Shinichiro's words flooded back into her mind. She felt like she was falling. 

"Shinichiro told us," she said, her voice flat and cold, her eyes locked on Kenshin's face. "About a swordsman he saw once in Kyoto, with red hair and a cross-shaped scar on his cheek." 

She saw the light die in Kenshin's eyes, a moment before he dropped them to the floor. He drew in on himself, his earlier wariness stilling into nothing. 

"Sumimasen. I did not intend to misuse your kindness, that I didn't." His voice was soft, barely above a whisper. "Please allow a moment to get dressed, and then I will leave, that I will." 

Akane startled. This was not what she had expected. Dark and rain and wind flashed through her mind. 

Kenshin pushed himself up off the wall, unsteady, taking a moment to find his balance, and stepped towards the futon. 

Oh, no. "Kenshin..." 

He didn't look at her. He reached down for his clothing. 

"NO!!" she shouted, startling herself, and grabbed his wrist. Kenshin looked up suddenly, at last, his eyes wide with surprise, pulling back against her grip. She squeezed tighter, feeling his wrist bones sticking out under hot damp skin. She lowered her voice, speaking through clenched teeth: "I'm not sending you out there to freeze to death-" 

At that moment many things happened at once. The door banged open and Hideki and Shinichiro rushed in, shouting, the lanterns in their hands casting the room into sudden brightness, revealing Akane half-lunging with the sword in one hand and Kenshin's arm in the other. 

"Akane!" Hideki shouted desperately. 

"Don't let him get the sword!" Shinichiro yelled simultaneously. 

Kenshin jerked back again at the same time that Akane, startled, let go of his wrist, sending him sprawling backwards to bang his head against the wall. Shinichiro rushed past her, jumped over the futon and dropped into a fighting stance over Kenshin, a kitchen knife in one hand, slamming the lantern down abruptly onto the floor. 

"Don't move, Battousai," he growled, as Kenshin started to sit up. 

Hideki was holding his sister by the shoulders, talking fast, as she talked over him, both their voices rising. 

"Akane, nee-chan, it's too dangerous, I don't want something terrible to happen!" 

"No. No. He's ill and it's pouring out. I'm not sending him out there!" 

Hideki had one hand on the sword now. "Even if it's reverse-bladed it can still cut! All he has to do is turn it over!" He yanked the sword out of its sheath. 

Kenshin jumped to his feet, started to lunge forward, but Shinichiro spun around and grabbed him from behind, yanking him backward and shouting "I said don't MOVE!" 

Everything stopped. 

Akane stood facing Shinichiro, wide-eyed, her knuckles gone white on the sheath. Hideki was half-turned, looking at Shinichiro over his shoulder, the sword in one hand, its tip trailing on the tatami. Kenshin had gone very still, his eyes closed, the back of his head pressed against Shinichiro's collarbone and his bare toes just touching the floor, one hand half-raised toward Shinichiro's arm clamped across his chest. The tip of Shinichiro's knife was pressed against his throat. 

A drop of blood welled up, and tracked its way down Kenshin's neck, and soaked into the hem of his yukata. No one moved. 

It was Eri who broke the silence, Eri standing in the doorway with her gray eyes huge and both hands over her mouth, who had followed the two men up from the kitchen after hearing Akane shout. 

"Stop," she said in a strangled voice. "Shinichiro, stop. Please. Don't kill him." 

Shinichiro wavered for a moment, watching Eri's eyes, then glanced down at the knife. He dropped Kenshin suddenly and sprang back. Kenshin stumbled forward, tripped on the futon and went sprawling. 

Shinichiro was staring at the blood on the knife in his hand, his eyes wide. His eyes flicked to Kenshin, to Eri, then again to Kenshin on the floor. 

Akane came to her senses with a start. She handed the sheath to Hideki. "Put it away." 

Hideki sheathed the sword, awkwardly, shuffling backwards towards the door. 

Akane turned to Shinichiro. "Shinichiro. Give me the knife." She held his eyes, and after a moment's hesitation, he handed it to her. "Good. Thank you. Hideki-- take him downstairs and stay there." 

Shinichiro moved hesitantly, around the very edge of the room, staying as far as possible from Kenshin. When the two men had gone out into the hallway, Eri turned to follow them, but Akane called her back. 

"Eri, wait a minute." Akane laid a hand on her friend's arm and glanced out the doorway. The men were heading down the stairs. "Can you run and bring me the first-aid kit? It's in the top cupboard next to the stove." She kept her voice soft and calm. 

Eri nodded. There were tears in her eyes. 

"And get the sword from Hideki. Put it in my bedroom." 

Eri nodded again and slipped off silently. 

Akane stashed the knife in the corner next to the door and turned finally to Kenshin. He'd gotten to his knees, but still seemed to be curled up somehow, making himself as small and unobtrusive as possible. He was watching her quietly from behind his bangs, his expression unreadable. Good, she thought, one less person in hysterics. 

She started towards him. He was trembling-- No. He was shivering. Before she could say anything his eyes flicked downwards, and he spoke quickly and quietly. 

"Akane-dono. I've caused you nothing but trouble. My well-being is not your responsibility. Leave or stay, I'll do whatever you tell me, that I will." He waited, eyes still lowered. 

Eri returned just then with a large lacquered box. Akane looked up and took it from her. 

"Thanks," Akane told her quietly. "Shinichiro's okay?" 

Eri shrugged. She'd regained her composure somewhat, but still looked pale and frightened. 

"Ask Hideki to walk you both home if you want. I'll be fine here. And Eri-- take care. Things will be all right." She gave her a quick one-armed hug. 

"I will. Thank you, Akane." She smiled wanly, and left. 

Akane turned back to Kenshin. He hadn't moved, his eyes still on the floor, politely averted from their conversation. "All right," she said. "Let me take a look at that cut." 

Kenshin lifted his chin, stil avoiding her eyes, and she dabbed at the blood on his neck with some cotton wool. It was a small cut, shallow, and had already stopped bleeding. On herself she wouldn't have bothered bandaging it, but she took some all-purpose salve from the box and smeared it over the cut anyway. 

"My apologies for getting blood on your yukata," Kenshin said when she'd stopped to rummage in the box again. 

"No. I should be the one to apologize, for allowing you to be injured under my roof." She stuck on a bandage. "There." 

Kenshin lowered his head, blinking, and took a couple of deep breaths. It occured to Akane suddenly that he was putting a lot of effort into keeping his composure. He was shivering again, too. No way would she let him go out in that condition. 

"Now, I want you to sleep here. I give you my word that you'll not be disturbed again tonight. Will you do that?" 

He met her eyes, finally, looking apprehensive. "Are you sure-" 

"I'm telling you to stay!" 

Kenshin flinched. "All right! All right. If that's what you want." 

She sighed, getting to her feet, the box in one hand. "Kenshin, I honestly don't care who you used to be. And by rights, I should return your sword. But I know that Shinichiro's going to ask my brother to spend the night here to look after me, and for his peace of mind I'd like to keep hold of it. Will you accept that?" 

Kenshin's apprehension had transformed into amazement as she spoke. "Of course," he said. 

"Good." She picked up the lantern, retrieved the knife, and paused in the doorway. "Oyasumi nasai." 

"Thank you," Kenshin breathed. "For everything." 

o-o-o 

Akane leaned on the sink and swore. Damn it. The whole evening had gone incredibly badly. 

After leaving Kenshin she'd stopped by her bedroom and picked up the sword, then come down to the kitchen to finish the washing-up. Including the knife. (Damn it, why did Shinichiro have to pick that up?) She sighed. Well, things would look better in the morning. She felt bad for Eri especially. 

She heard footsteps outside the door. That would be Hideki. 

He came in soaked from the waist down and damp from the waist up, shaking out the umbrella. "Um, nee-chan, I'd better spend the night here with you, if you don't mind, you know, in case anything happens." He spotted the sword leaning by the sink, and looked relieved. 

Akane smiled. "Of course." 


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Akane woke to watery sunshine streaming into her bedroom. She'd been right: things did always look better in the morning. The night had been completely uneventful. Hideki had peeked into her room an hour ago to let her know that he was leaving for the harbor. Sea life started too early; she'd rolled over and gone back to sleep. 

Akane stretched and sat up. They'd all overreacted far too much last night. She'd go and see Eri just after breakfast, she decided, make sure that she was doing all right, and that Shinichiro had calmed down. Shinichiro was too moody for his own good. Sure, the Yukawas had fallen dramatically in social standing with the revolution, but they had a home and a livelihood and friends and were reasonably well off now. Couldn't he just get over it already? Eri had. 

She padded out into the hallway toward the stairs, pausing to peek in at Kenshin in the back room. He was lying on his back on the futon, with the quilt pulled up to his chin. Still sleeping. She started to turn away, but some instinct made her turn back, and step into the room. Something was wrong. 

Kenshin's skin was very pale, apart from the red around the edges of his eyelids and an unhealthy purplish tinge to his lips. His breathing was fast and shallow. He was drenched with sweat, his hair plastered to his forehead, and burning hot to her touch. 

Akane shook him and called his name but got no reaction. Her heart started to pound unpleasantly. She threw the quilt off his body and bolted for the stairs. 

In the kitchen she grabbed a stack of tea towels out of the cupboard and shoved them down the front of her yukata, then hauled on the pump handle, filling a pot with cold well-water. She ran back up the stairs, sloshing water onto her sleeves, and slid to a halt next to Kenshin's futon. 

A high fever alone could kill a person. She had to bring down his temperature. She dunked a towel in the water, wrung it quickly, and laid it across Kenshin's forehead, pushing aside a stringy handful of wet red hair. She waited, listening to the desperate cadence of his breathing as she dampened a second towel to wipe away the drops of sweat on his face. 

Minutes passed. Nothing was happening. She pulled the cloth off Kenshin's forehead (warm already) and replaced it with a fresh one. He hadn't moved, hadn't reacted at all. Akane felt a knot of worry growing in her stomach. What if it was already too late? She should have gotten up earlier, checked on him.... She adjusted the cloth, fidgeting. 

This was too slow. Akane yanked the sweat-soaked yukata down off Kenshin's shoulders, bunching the fabric around his waist, and slapped a wet towel across his bony chest. Kenshin gasped, flinching, and a shudder ran through his body. Akane snatched back the cloth, dismayed. 

No good, Akane, she told herself; being shocked is the last thing he needs. She waited while Kenshin's breathing settled down again. It was a little slower, a little deeper than before. A small improvement, at least. 

o-o-o 

Two hours crawled past. 

Akane stayed by Kenshin's side, replacing the cold towel on his forehead at intervals. She desperately wanted to go for the doctor, but she didn't want to leave him alone. 

She had succeeded in bringing his fever down a little. His breathing was more normal now, and some color had come back into his cheeks. He'd also started shivering intermittently. Akane had to fight the urge to cover him up with the quilt. He was still too hot for that. 

It was with a surge of relief that she heard the scrape of the kitchen door, the voices of her two assistants arriving for the day. She jumped up and stuck her head into the hallway, yelling down the stairs. 

"Eiko! Aki! Come up here quick!" She'd tried to keep from sounding too panicky, but must have failed, because the kids ran up the stairs looking alarmed. 

"Akane-san! What is it?" Eiko tried to look past her into the room, her brown eyes widening. "Kenshin-san-- is he...?" 

"No time to explain. Eiko-chan: run over to the warehouse and bring Hideki back with you. Aki-kun: go get Watanabe-sensei. Have him bring whatever he's got for fevers. Tell him it's an emergency." They were staring at her, expecting more. "Well? Run!" She waved her arms. They ran. 

o-o-o 

It was ten minutes' walk across town to Watanabe-sensei's house, ten minutes back. Aki returned in a bare fifteen, out of breath and alone. "He's out!" 

Akane gritted her teeth. It was getting too close to lunchtime; they had to start cooking soon. "Okay. Let me think." She glanced at Hideki. He had returned with Eiko ten minutes ago, and she'd had him watch Kenshin for a little while while she'd gotten dressed and run down to the bathroom. She'd also taken the opportunity to refill her pot with fresh cold water to soak the cloths in; it had started to get lukewarm. She'd sent Eiko down to the kitchen to start cutting vegetables for lunch; she didn't want the girl to worry too much. (Unfortunately, keeping her away seemed to be having the opposite effect.) 

"Okay," she said again. "Aki-kun, you go help Eiko get ready for lunch. Hideki, see if you can find Watanabe-sensei. Wait for him if you have to." Hideki nodded and went, Aki following him down the stairs. 

Akane watched them go, then turned back to Kenshin. It was past ten already. They had an hour, hour-and-a-half if they were lucky, before customers started showing up. She plucked the cloth off Kenshin's forehead and dunked it in the water, then wrung it out and replaced it. 

Kenshin shivered again and stirred a little, his eyelids flickering. Akane paused and looked at him closely. 

"Kenshin?" She laid a hand on his shoulder and shook him gently. He took a breath and his eyelids flickered again. 

Akane's heart leapt. It was something. He'd tried to move his arms a little, too. She untangled his wrists from the sleeves of the yukata that was still bunched up around his waist, and squeezed his hand. His fingers twitched weakly in response. 

o-o-o 

Hideki didn't return with Watanabe-sensei until close to noon. The lunch rush had started by then, the arrival of each group of customers making Akane jump, expecting her brother. When he finally returned, sliding the door open deferentially for the small gray-haired doctor, Akane felt weak with relief. Hideki mumbled something about helping Aki and Eiko in the kitchen and left them alone. 

Kenshin was still sleeping. He'd been stirring every now and then, and at one point he'd crossed his forearms over his bare stomach. He was shivering harder now. Akane still had him uncovered, a cold wet cloth across his forehead. 

Watanabe moved quickly and efficiently, sliding in next to Akane beside the futon. "What's his name? I haven't seen him here before." The doctor's voice was soft, low and calming. He took the damp cloth off Kenshin's forehead, briefly checking his temperature. 

"Himura Kenshin. He's new in town." 

"Hm." Watanabe was feeling for Kenshin's pulse in his neck, wrists and ankles. "And the last time he was awake was when?" 

"Last night, as far as I know. He's been sick since mid-day yesterday, but it wasn't this bad." 

Watanabe was pressing various spots on Kenshin's body. Kenshin stirred, frowning slightly, his red eyebrows twitching together. "His lymph nodes are a little swollen, but I don't think it's anything incurable. I'm guessing it's a common fever, just unusually severe." Watanabe sat back, a serious look on his narrow face, watching Kenshin closely. "His temperature's still very high." 

The doctor rummaged in his bag, pulling out a mortar and pestle and several small bags of herbs and powders. "I'm going to give him some medicine to bring down the fever. He's semiconscious so I should be able to get him to swallow it. Akane, go bring up a cup of tea, would you? Not too hot." 

"Okay." She ran down the stairs into the controlled chaos of the kitchen and snatched a cup of tea from the tray Eiko had just poured, returning her questioning look with a tight frown. She hurried back up the stairs. 

Watanabe had Kenshin propped up by the shoulders when she returned, a small fold of paper full of ground herbs in one hand. He poured the herbs into the back of Kenshin's throat, followed by the tea. Kenshin swallowed once reflexively and then choked. 

"Oh-- damn it--" Watanabe slung Kenshin forward across his other arm and whacked him between the shoulderblades several times, hard, until he stopped coughing. Kenshin shuddered, gasping for breath. Gradually his breathing returned to normal. 

Watanabe looked down grimly at the small body hanging limply over his arm. "He's been starving, hasn't he." It wasn't a question. Kenshin's ribs were clearly visible. 

Akane winced. "Yes. I think so." She waited for Watanabe to respond, but he was quiet, lowering Kenshin gently onto his side. The rurouni's breath caught and he coughed weakly, then lay still, shivering again, his arms folded up against his bare chest. 

Nervously Akane filled the silence. "He was travelling. Across the mountains, I think. He must have run out of food somewhere along the way." She paused. "It doesn't help, does it." 

Watanabe sighed. "It means he's already weakened." He looked up at Akane with his small bright black eyes, and explained quickly. "It's why plagues usually follow famines. When people are weakened by starvation, they're more susceptible to diseases. They also have less strength to fight it off, so the death rate is higher." He looked back down at Kenshin's huddled form, and absent-mindedly laid a damp cloth across his forehead. 

Akane looked anguished. "Isn't there anything more you can do?" 

"Not really. All we can do is keep his temperature down, like you've been doing." Watanabe glanced up at her. "See the way he's shivering? It's his body trying to raise his fever, but he's losing enough heat to keep it from going up. When the medicine I gave him kicks in, his fever should go back down again, and then you'll have to be careful not to let him get chilled." 

"Okay," Akane said softly. "Okay, I'll do it." She laid a hand protectively on Kenshin's bare shoulder. 

Watanabe was packing up his herbs. "Aside from that, there's not really anything else we can do. It's up to him now to fight it off. I'll come back tomorrow, see how he's doing. But Akane--" He looked up at her, eyes sad, and shook his head slightly. "I don't think he has much of a chance." 

o-o-o 

By the end of the lunch rush, Kenshin's fever had gone down enough that Akane felt comfortable covering him up again. She stripped him out of the rumpled yukata, still sweat-dampened from the morning and starting to get cold, and wrestled him into a fresh one, then tucked the quilt in around him. He was still sleeping, breathing regularly; he hadn't really reacted at all to her awkward dressing procedure. 

When after another hour Kenshin's condition still hadn't changed, Akane left Hideki to look after him while she went out. She had to do something or she'd go nuts waiting and worrying, and besides, she needed to do some shopping before dinnertime. She chatted briefly with Aki and Eiko, just finishing the washing-up from lunch, then wandered out the back door. She paused to take a look at her garden, the rich deep soil covered with straw to protect it from erosion by the winter's heavy rains. The days were getting longer; soon it would be time to plant the spring onions. 

The market street was uphill from the harbor, running from the edge of the warehouse district up several blocks to eventually become the east road that led into the mountains. With the afternoon's sunshine, it was full of people. Akane bought her groceries -- root vegetables, fresh tofu, seasonings, some early spring onions from one of the farms south of town. She made a note to herself to send Aki to buy a couple sacks of rice later; they'd started to run a little low. 

The Yukawas' place was up this way. Just a few blocks farther up from the produce sellers'... Akane's pace quickened. Yes, she would go see Eri after all, make sure she was doing all right, and Shinichiro too. 

The short gate in front of their garden was closed. Odd; Eri usually had her shop open at this hour. Akane let herself in and went up to the house. No one was home. There was a paper tacked to the door reading 'Sorry to have missed you, please call again' in Eri's impeccable handwriting. Hmm. She hoped nothing was up. Well, nothing to do but try again later. Akane shrugged and turned toward home. 

o-o-o 

When she got back, Kenshin was awake. Akane stood open-mouthed in the doorway of the back room, gaping at the chaos inside. Kenshin was sprawled half off the futon, struggling weakly against Hideki and Aki who each had hold of one of his arms, while Eiko hovered ineffectually nearby, trying to reach in and help every few seconds. 

"Aki-kun-- now!" Hideki said, and they hauled Kenshin back onto the futon. He tried to sit up, saying something incoherent about waterfalls, his eyes wide and unnaturally dark raking across them. 

"What is going ON?!" 

Hideki looked up distractedly, busy holding Kenshin down by the shoulders. "He's delirious. He was trying to get out of bed. We-- that is--" 

"It's okay. Calm down." Akane moved quickly. "Here Eiko-chan, give me that." She took a sopping wet cloth from Eiko's hands, wrung it out into the pot of water, and stepped over Kenshin's legs (tangled in yukata and quilt) to kneel on the other side of the futon. Aki made way for her eagerly. Kenshin had gone still, tense and breathing rapidly, his dilated eyes tracking something that only he could see. 

Akane felt Kenshin's forehead -- no change from before, feverish but not dangerously hot -- and laid the cloth on it anyway. He turned at her touch and stared through her unnervingly, but didn't try to move otherwise. Hesitantly, Hideki let go of his shoulders. Akane looked up at Hideki and they exchanged a worried frown. 

"What should we do?" Hideki asked. 

"I don't know. He's settled down now; I guess we just watch him and wait." 

o-o-o 

Though his eyes were open, Kenshin dreamed, memory and fantasy flowing one into the other. Some of the dreams were ordinary, long bright days spent training, or washing laundry, or walking the many roads of Japan; others were dark and violent and disturbing, soaked in the blood and fire of the revolution. 

o-o-o 

Kenshin held long conversations with people who weren't there, speaking little, spending most of the time listening. At the end of the dinner rush Akane had come back upstairs, taking over from her brother who had watched their patient for much of the afternoon and evening while she cooked. Now she tried not to eavesdrop too much, not that she could tell much of what Kenshin was seeing by his cryptic comments. She occupied herself mending some clothes she'd been meaning to take care of. 

The night was worse. Kenshin hardly slept at all, and he seemed agitated, though he moved only a little and his voice had dropped to a whisper. Hideki spent the night there again, he and Akane taking turns sleeping. By morning Kenshin looked exhausted, his body sunk limply into the futon, his face deathly pale and pinched-looking, with dark circles around his half-lidded eyes. 

Watanabe-sensei came by around lunchtime. Kenshin opened his eyes when Watanabe started feeling for his pulse, though he still seemed unaware of his surroundings. Watanabe looked surprised when he pronounced him not much changed. Kenshin was exhausted and starting to get dehydrated, yet at the same time his fever hadn't spiked back up and his heartbeat was no weaker than on the previous day. 

Towards the end of the afternoon Kenshin startled awake from a light doze, his eyes wide, making Akane look up from her sewing. He blinked, trying to focus, and called out for his mother and father in a small hoarse voice. Akane's heart squeezed. She cooed to him in a comforting voice and leaned forward to stroke his hair. It was damp again with sweat. His fever was creeping back up. She soaked a cloth in cold water and laid it gently across his forehead. 

He was silent after that for a long time, tense and breathing fast, his eyes huge and unreadable. After close to half an hour his bruised eyelids flickered closed, and he slowly relaxed, settling limply into the futon. 

Akane stayed with him, convinced he was dying, leaving Eiko and Aki to deal with the dinner customers. But he kept breathing, shallow and slow and regular, through the evening and long into the night. 

Kenshin's fever broke in the dark hour before dawn of the third day. Exhausted and emotionally drained, Akane woke Hideki to look after him and fell into bed. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Kenshin woke up slowly, gazing at the ceiling, letting it come gradually into focus. He'd had that dream again, the one he could only ever remember the end of. An outstretched hand, palm up, inviting, and a voice, warm and hopeful: Okaeri. Welcome home. 

He sighed and looked around. It was mid-morning, judging by the angle of the light on the tops of the trees just visible through the half-open window. Broken clouds. The rain had passed. He felt drained, pulled down by gravity, like he'd been swimming for a long time. But he felt much better than he had. 

He went over in his mind the things that had happened since he came to this town, since he came under this roof. Akane-dono's roof. 

Oh. 

He ought to have gone, no matter what Akane-dono had said. But by the end of the evening he'd felt too ill to argue any more; by that point it was all he could manage to keep from curling up into a ball and just wishing everything would go away. 

Akane-dono had asked him to stay. Ordered him to stay. Even knowing what he had been. Where had she gained that kind of confidence? She was too kind, he thought. Anyway, it was lucky for him: a night out in the rain at that point probably would have killed him. 

Well, now that he felt better, there were plenty of things to do. For one thing, he had to make sure everything was all right with Eri and Shinichiro. So Yukawa Shinichiro had been in Kyoto during the revolution. In retrospect, it was obvious that Shinichiro had recognized him the first time he'd seen him that evening, though Kenshin could have sworn he'd never set eyes on the man before. He wondered how Shinichiro had been involved in the revolution. Not on the side of the Ishin Shishi, he gathered. 

Sounds of cooking were drifting up from the kitchen -- the rattle of pots, running water, the tok-tok-tok of vegetables being chopped. Soothing. Kenshin felt far too relaxed to move just yet. Talking to Eri and Shinichiro could wait a little while. In the mean time, he might as well get some more sleep. 

o-o-o 

The sound of footsteps in the hallway woke Kenshin some time in the early afternoon, and he turned his head to look a moment before Akane slid open the door to the room. 

She saw him awake and faltered, her expression uncertain. "Kenshin?" 

"Akane-dono..." His voice was weak and hoarse. He cleared his throat. 

Sudden delight brightened her face. "You're awake! Thank goodness. Wait there, I'll get you some tea." 

Before Kenshin could say anything more, she'd hurried away again. He heard her feet pound down the stairs, then vague rattling-around sounds coming up from the kitchen. He smiled a little at the ordinariness of it all. 

When she returned he was ready, and spoke before she could interrupt. "Akane-dono, thank you for what you said last night." 

She stopped, looking down at him quizzically. "What I said last night?" 

Kenshin shifted his gaze a bit to the side, uncomfortable. "You kindly allowed me to stay here. Despite... everything." 

Akane's round brown eyes widened suddenly, then softened into a look of sympathy. "Oh. That." She shrugged. "How could I do anything else?" She paused, pursing her lips. "But Kenshin.... That wasn't last night. Two days have come and gone since then." 

Kenshin's eyes widened slowly as her words sank in. "Two days...?" He tried to sit up, but managed only to lift his head a little, with some difficulty. He felt shaky and much weaker than he'd expected. 

"You were very ill." She knelt down next to the futon and offered him a cup. "Here, drink this." 

Now that she mentioned it, Kenshin realized he was terribly thirsty. To his embarrassment, Akane slid her arm under his shoulders and propped him up, holding the cup for him. He drank it despite the taste, unpleasantly sweet and at the same time salty with a weird fishy aftertaste, the same nasty concoction she'd given him the day before -- no, three days ago. He was suddenly worried. What had happened in all that time? 

He finished the tea, and Akane lowered him back down onto the futon. Exhaustion flooded through him. He closed his eyes momentarily, framing the questions that he'd ask Akane: what had happened during those two days? Shinichiro and Eri...? But when he opened his eyes again she was gone, and the patch of northwest sky out his window was rosy with sunset. 

Kenshin sat up abruptly, disturbed by the missing time. He'd lost, what, four hours just now? But he felt stronger, and more clear-headed. He looked around critically. 

First, his sword was still missing. Akane must have it with her somewhere. His clothes were stacked next to the futon, where he'd left them, but they'd been washed and re-folded. Likewise, the yukata he was wearing was not the one he'd put on the day before-- no, just call it the last day he could remember. It was darker blue and stripey, and there was no bloodstain on the hem. He felt his throat. No sign of the cut that Shinichiro had given him. It had healed already. 

Someone had left a tray on the tatami near him, with tea and a few mini rice balls and a small bowl of pickled vegetables. Kenshin still felt thirsty. He got to his knees and reached for the tea. It was warm; whoever had left this must have done so recently, and it hadn't woken him. Troubling. He was normally a light sleeper. 

He eyed the rice balls. He had no appetite, but knew he had to eat if he wanted to regain his strength, and the sooner the better. He nibbled at one of them. Smoked fish inside, yum! He smiled happily, eyes brightening, and finished the rice ball, then went for the pickled vegetables. From the incredible way they tasted, there must be something in them that his body needed badly right now. 

Kenshin paused. He was starting to feel full and drowsy. The remaining rice balls stared back at him. Later, he thought. He ought to get up, go downstairs, do something useful now that he was well again. But his energy had drained away, so that even sitting up was becoming an effort. 

He curled up on the futon and wrapped the quilt around himself. He was safe and warm and fed. That was enough, for now. He gazed out the window at the deepening twilight, watching as the stars appeared one by one, until he drifted off to sleep. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Kenshin woke up early, feeling more alive than he had for the past week. He took a deep breath and stood up carefully. A little wobbly, but not too bad. His legs felt weak and his balance was wonky; he'd spent too much time lying down. Not to worry; it would get better as he moved around some more. 

He stripped off the yukata and put on his own clothes. So nice of Akane-dono to have washed them for him. He untied his hair and shook it out, then finger-combed it quickly and tied it back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. Then he folded the futon and quilt and stacked them neatly next to the wall, laying the yukata and his scarf on top. 

He slid open the door and listened. No sound of movement down below. It was early; Akane-dono must still be asleep. He padded out in his socks and walked slowly down the stairs, one hand on the wall to compensate for his lack of balance. He was feeling more steady already, but didn't want to risk a fall. 

The kitchen was clean, dishes washed and put away. Kenshin crossed back in front of the stairs and stuck his head through the half-curtained doorway to the dining room. Everything was tidy here, too, the tables scrubbed, the cushions all stacked in one corner, the floor swept clean. Kenshin stood still for a minute, gazing blankly into the dining room, at a loss for what to do. Then he shrugged, smiled, and went back to the kitchen. 

He found his sandals next to the back door, slipped them on, and went out onto the porch. It was raining again, gently, the drops falling through the bare branches of the trees and making a soft hissing sound on the ground and the blue tile roof of the building opposite. Kenshin looked around until he spotted the wood pile off to the right near the end of the garden. 

o-o-o 

Akane woke to rain falling past her window. She stretched and sat up, then padded out into the hallway toward the stairs, pausing to peek in at Kenshin in the back room. The futon was folded tidily against the wall. She gasped. Kenshin was gone. 

No, wait. He'd left his scarf, folded on top of the futon, and his sword was still in her bedroom. He must still be here, and feeling better. Akane blew out a relieved breath and hurried down the stairs. 

The stove was lit, the kettle on top steaming gently. The back door had been left open a couple of inches, letting in a breath of cold moist air. Kenshin had taken his sandals, too. Akane slipped on her own shoes and slid the door open. 

Kenshin was sitting on the porch to the left of the door, his back against the wall, gazing out at the rain with a blissful smile on his face. He had a cup of tea balanced on one knee, his hands wrapped around it. He looked up at Akane when she stepped out. His eyes were clear and bright, blue-gray in the pearl-colored morning light filtering down through the clouds. 

"The rain is beautiful, isn't it, Akane-dono?" His voice was light, pitched high, with a smile in it. 

"Kenshin!" This was not the sort of thing Akane had expected from him. When she'd met him that first evening when he'd come looking for work, and then the next day when Hideki had brought him in to rest and warm up in her kitchen, Akane had assumed he would be like any youngster from around the village, future farmers and fishermen with the usual trivial concerns of youth. Like Aki, for example, with too little life experience yet to truly differentiate his personality. Her maternal instinct had kicked in hard when he'd fallen ill, reinforcing the impression. She'd started to think of him as someone who needed protecting. Then, later that night, when Shinichiro had told her what Kenshin had done during the Bakumatsu.... She still hadn't squared it with her earlier impression. She'd found it impossible to think of Kenshin as a legendary swordsman, or as a ruthless killer either, when he was lying helpless with a bad fever. Thinking about it once he'd started to recover, she'd figured he'd probably be something like Shinichiro, he being the only person she knew who had actually fought in the revolution -- polite but distant, and more than a little grim. But this...! Shinichiro would not have said something like this. 

He'd been looking at her curiously, but now his smile was slipping. "Akane-dono, is something wrong?" he asked uncertainly, starting forward to get up. 

"No, no! Not at all." She waved her hands. "I was just... surprised you like the rain." She looked out at the grayness. "We get a lot of it during the winter. Most people are sick of it by now, is all." She looked back down at him, at a loss. There was an uncomfortable silence. Then both spoke at once. 

"Kenshin-" 

"Akane-dono-" 

"No, please, go ahead," she said. 

Kenshin nodded, stood up, looked down at his feet for a moment, and then back up to meet her eyes. His expression was serious. "Akane-dono, thank you for taking care of me when I was sick. I want to stay and work to repay your kindness, that I do, if you will let me. But you probably don't want me to stay around, now that you know who I am. And I think I've caused a terrible disturbance in the lives of your friends the Yukawas." He looked to the side, his expression a bit miserable. 

"Oh!" Akane paused. He was certainly direct, laying it all out on the table from the start. It must have been weighing on his mind. And he was offering her an opening to send him away, with no hint of disgrace. But she'd been thinking about it too. 

"Stay, at least for a while," she said. "You can help out in the kitchen." She thought he looked a little relieved. "About the Yukawas..." she continued. "I haven't actually seen Eri since that night, or Shinichiro either. It's worrying me. I went by their place three days ago and again yesterday, but they weren't around. Usually Eri has her shop open during the day, but she'd left a note saying she was out." Akane paused, tapping her square chin thoughtfully. Then she grinned at Kenshin. "You can help me solve this mystery!" she said, and thumped an open hand down on his shoulder. 

"Oro!" Kenshin staggered under the blow. 

"Oh! I'm sorry! Are you all right?" Akane caught him by both shoulders and steadied him, suddenly alarmed. His shoulders felt bony. He was far too skinny. 

Kenshin was shaking her off. "It's all right, I'm fine, that I am." He smiled reassuringly. 

Akane frowned. That smile made him look young and terribly vulnerable. "Come in and have some breakfast." She led Kenshin back into the kitchen, and closed the door on the cool wet draft. "There, that's better." She bustled around, drawing some water for rice and setting it to boil on the stove. 

"Eiko and Aki usually come in around ten," she continued. "I'll go out before then, up to the Yukawas' place, and see if Eri's in. You should stay here; I don't want them to see you again until I know how they're dealing with it." She mixed up some miso with hot water from the kettle, adding sliced green onions, and passed a bowl to Kenshin. "Hideki should see Eri today, too; she's sending some stuff out on the cart tomorrow morning. I'll make sure he knows I'm looking for her, in case I miss her again." The water on the stove had started to boil. She poured in some rice, put on the lid, and moved it off the direct heat to simmer. 

She met Kenshin's eyes. "We'll sort this out," she said, her voice determined. "You'll see." 

He nodded back, with a small hopeful smile. 

o-o-o 

Eiko usually liked to hum while she worked, but this time she was quiet. She had a lot to think about. Aki had come to pick her up from home at the usual time, walking with her side-by-side under the umbrella. The rain had been letting up; by the time they arrived at the restaurant Aki had already shaken out the umbrella and folded it. Kenshin had been sitting on the porch next to the back door, watching the clouds. He'd gotten up when they arrived, greeting them with a happy 'ohayou gozaimas'!', and let them in to the kitchen. Akane had still been out; Kenshin explained that she'd gone to see Yukawa Eri and do some shopping. 

Eiko finished slivering the green onions and scraped them into a bowl. She stole a glance at Kenshin, working at the other counter beside Akane, painstakingly peeling a stack of burdock roots. She and Aki had gotten to work preparing things for lunch as usual. Kenshin had begged them to let him help, so they'd put him to work dicing vegetables. He wasn't very fast at it. But he was so polite, calling her Eiko-dono. No one had ever called her that before. It had made her feel all melty inside. 

Akane had returned shortly after with the shopping. She'd seemed unhappy, telling them cryptically that Eri had been out. Something had happened with Eri in the past few days, but Eiko wasn't sure what it was. Well, Akane would sort it out, she'd thought. Akane could deal with anything. Kenshin had seemed concerned, but he hadn't said anything. 

The big rice pot had come to a boil on the stove. Eiko poured in the rice and slid it off the direct heat, putting on the lid to let it simmer. Akane leaned past her with another pot of water to start it heating for the miso. Customers would be arriving soon. 

Eiko tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and glanced over at Kenshin again. He was slowly and tediously cutting the burdock into matchsticks. She was not sure what to think about Kenshin any more. She had expected him to be dashing and exotic (the red hair! the sword!) but instead he seemed awkward and shy, even more so than Aki was. And he was so short! Shorter than she was, even, by a couple of inches. She hadn't realized it until this morning. Until now, she hadn't actually seen him standing up properly. She sighed and rolled her eyes. 

At that moment the kitchen door banged open and Eiko looked up, startled. A woman was standing there, disheveled and out of breath, her long black hair pulled back hurriedly into a sloppy braid and her gray eyes wide. Eiko realized with a shock that it was Yukawa Eri, Akane's friend, usually so calm and stylish -- something really was wrong. 

"Eri!" Akane rushed forward from the stove and caught her friend by the shoulders. "Are you all right? I've been looking for you for ages--" 

Eri stared past her straight at Kenshin, who startled and froze, a bowl of slivered burdock in his hands. 

"I need to talk to Himura-san," she said. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Akane worked the kitchen, brisk and efficient as always, but her mind was elsewhere. She'd put Eiko and Aki both on serving duty to give herself some time to think. She'd been tremendously relieved to see Eri, but the state her friend had been in had worried her even more. Eri had done her hair fast, a simple braid with strands flying out in every direction, a far cry from her usual elaborate hairstyles. She was wearing a nice kimono, but she'd obviously just thrown it on over her yukata and knotted the obi haphazardly in back. And she'd looked really flustered. 

'I need to talk to Himura-san,' Eri had said. And she'd refused to explain any further, shooting a meaningful look at Aki and Eiko, who had both been watching her with wide curious eyes. So Akane had led her and Kenshin upstairs and set the three of them up with some tea in the other front room next to her bedroom, the one she used as an office. 

But Eri had looked at her apologetically and said, "In private, please." She'd apologised sincerely and promised Akane a full explanation later, when there was time. So Akane had left, reluctantly, telling Eri to just yell if she needed anything. 

They'd been up there for an hour now. What could they possibly be talking about? Akane wondered, as she drained three orders of hot soba noodles into bowls and added the broth and toppings. She could cook in her sleep, fortunately, so her preoccupation would not lead to any unhappy customers. Eiko came for the tray of soba and Akane filled another teapot. At that moment she heard a door rattle open upstairs. Finally! She plonked down the teapot and swished under the half-curtained kitchen doorway into the foyer, hurrying Eiko in front of her. 

Kenshin was coming down the stairs, one hand on the wall, followed by Eri. Akane searched her friend's face. Eri looked calmer now, her eyes no longer panicky, but she wasn't relaxed either. She looked determined. She was definitely up to something. Akane glanced down from her friend to Kenshin. He looked concerned, his eyebrows quirked and his lips pressed together. He looked up then and met her eyes. 

"I'll need my sword, that I will, Akane-dono." 

o-o-o 

Kenshin meandered slowly down the market street, checking out the shops in a way that he hoped appeared casual. In truth, he was watching and listening carefully, trying to pick up on the gossip. He had started near the harbor, working his way up over the course of a couple of hours to where the shops petered out on the eastern edge of town, and was starting back downhill now. The morning's rain had long since passed and the clouds were starting to break up now, letting through watery golden shafts of light from the afternoon sun. The promise of sunshine had brought people outside, filling the street. 

Eri had told him everything. 

The Yukawas had been samurai, well-established, an old family. Shinichiro had gone to Kyoto in the late spring of the last year of Bakumatsu to fight on behalf of his lord. Eri had stayed behind, of course, through the summer and autumn. Things had started to collapse after that, with the surrender of Tokugawa; a power struggle in their district had shifted opinion drastically and she'd been forced to flee, leaving everything behind. She'd been lucky to track down Shinichiro on his way back home, before he could return to an unwelcoming (and potentially fatal) homecoming. They'd spent the next year wandering, eventually settling here in this village, with the help of the Tobes. 

A few things had slotted into place in Kenshin's mind -- Shinichiro's reaction to him, of course, but also the way Eri had been eyeing his sword curiously in Hideki's warehouse that first day. But there was more, much more than he could have guessed. 

A little over a week ago, three men had come to town on horseback. Three samurai. They had visited Shinichiro at home while Eri was out; she'd just met them leaving when she'd returned. Shinichiro had brooded about it for two days, tight-lipped, refusing to discuss the incident with Eri. But she'd known that something was up. 

But then he'd met Kenshin. That sudden reminder of the tumultuous past had pushed Shinichiro over. He'd gone out early the next morning, with a strange look in his eyes, telling Eri only that he had some errands to run. Eri guessed what was happening and checked: Shinichiro had taken his swords, unused for these last eight years, out from the cupboard in their bedroom. She had pulled out all the stops then, spending the day coursing the town for gossip. Shinichiro didn't return until very late, his clothes dusty and his eyes hard. The next morning she'd followed him, spying hidden while he met the three samurai in their inn. Then the four of them had gone out together; she'd trailed them as far as the edge of the woods. The same had happened the day after. That brought them to today. 

Kenshin felt terrible about it. Eri had told him all this, and then asked him for advice about what she should do. Somehow she thought that, as a fellow (ex-)warrior, he could give her some words of wisdom. Wisdom he couldn't offer, but help he could. This was his fault. He would do everything he could to put it right. 

There was more. Today had been a little different. Shinichiro had left early by himself, heading off towards the woods rather than stopping first at the inn. Eri had gathered from some eavesdropped conversation that something significant was happening tonight, though she hadn't been able to find out what. So Kenshin had gone out with her, to comb the markets for information. 

A sudden tug on his sleeve nearly made Kenshin jump out of his skin. 

"Eri-dono! You startled me, that you did." She had managed to sneak up on him, despite the wooden clogs she was wearing. He must still be spaced out, not quite fully recovered. He'd better get back to normal soon; otherwise this could be a problem. 

"They're having dinner in the inn," Eri told him in a low quiet voice, bending down a little to talk conspiratorially into his ear. "Two of them are there already and I just saw Sakurai crossing the street." Sakurai was the youngest of the three, tall and handsome with long black hair, or so Kenshin had gathered. He seemed to be the main object of conversation among the shop girls today. "They know what I look like; you'll have to go." 

"Oro?" Kenshin looked up at her cluelessly. 

Eri rolled her gray eyes, clapping a hand to her forehead. "Go have dinner at the inn so you can listen to their conversation," she spelled it out. "You're broke, right? Here--" she fished some money out of the sleeve of her striped green kimono and handed it to him-- "now get going before they start!" 

"Arigatou gozaimas'--" he stammered as she gave him a push across the street. She was already hurrying off up the street, glancing back at him to nod encouragingly. Well, all right then, Kenshin thought. 

o-o-o 

The restaurant that occupied the ground floor of the inn was quite fancy for a town of this size. The interior was ell-shaped, with shoulder-high wooden partitions topped with latticework separating the tables along each wall. 

Kenshin sipped his tea and didn't look at the samurai. He'd been lucky enough to be led to a small table near where the room made its angle, diagonally across from the three men. If he looked up, he could just see them through the latticed partition. It gave him cover and a good spot for listening. 

The three men were starting on their meal with a wide array of appetizers on tiny square dishes. They were dressed well, in the style favored by merchants. It struck Kenshin as a little odd; more ostentatious than he would have expected from the samurai he'd encountered during the revolution. Maybe it was a cover identity. They seemed to be enjoying their food. 

"Wow, have you tried this octopus? It's really good!" That was Sakurai, obviously the youngest of the three, with a friendly open face and eyes that tended to smile, nicely set off by his thick straight bangs cut in a neat line across his forehead. To his left sat Tomonaga. Kenshin recognized him from Eri's description. He was quite striking, his face craggy and lean with peaked eyebrows. His most distinctive feature, though, was an old scar on his forehead running vertically into his hairline, where it continued as a streak of white contrasting sharply with his otherwise black hair. To Tomonaga's left was the third member of their party. He was older, his short dark hair starting to recede in front. His eyes were slightly hooded and his face was round and ordinary-looking, wearing a disinterested expression. He was not a person you would especially notice on the street. This must be Kobayashi. 

Sakurai and Tomonaga were chatting idly about the food, the weather, other inconsequential things, while Kobayashi picked quietly at his plate. Time wore on. This was no good, Kenshin thought; he wasn't learning anything. 

A white-and-green-aproned waitress stopped by his table to deliver a steaming bowl of soba. He thanked her and continued listening. 

"Have you finished packing?" Kobayashi spoke suddenly into a gap in the conversation, his voice low and casual. 

"Yes, of course." Tomonaga. 

"Almost. It'll only take me a few minutes to finish up." Sakurai. 

Kobayashi nodded. Kenshin was watching them in his peripheral vision as he slurped a few noodles. Wow, it was good! His stomach gurgled in appreciation. He'd forgotten to have lunch. He tucked into it with gusto. 

"Good," Kobayashi continued. Kenshin waited for him to say more, but he'd fallen silent. So something was happening tonight, Kenshin thought. If only he could find out what it was. 

After a pause, Tomonaga and Sakurai continued their conversation. The topic had drifted into a comparison of the virtues of some pieces of equipment, which Kenshin gradually figured out from context were a part of a horse's bridle. So... boring.... He sighed, twirling his chopsticks in the soba. He felt sleepy already; if this went on he'd surely nod off into his noodles. 

More customers had been arriving as twilight fell outside. The light from the windows was dimming, turning blue-gray as the sky darkened. A girl went around table to table, lighting the lanterns. Kenshin watched her, idly. Something was tugging at his attention. A familiar voice.... He started to glance up a second before he placed it: Shinichiro! Kenshin ducked behind his table barely in time as a waitress led Shinichiro past. He heard him greet the samurai, heard the soft double clop as he dropped his shoes to the floor, heard the rustle of clothing as Shinichiro settled himself onto a cushion. 

Kenshin sat up cautiously and peeked through the latticework. Shinichiro was at the samurai's table, facing the other direction. He relaxed a little. That had been close. 

Shinichiro was talking. "I got the information," he said. "It sets out tomorrow morning, at dawn. There'll be two guards on horseback. And the driver, of course, but he shouldn't be a problem." 

"Fine," Kobayashi replied. "There's a place five miles up the road where we'll set up camp. The road makes two bends there to go around a bluff. On the east side there's a hidden clearing, fifty yards or so back from the road. Do you know the spot?" 

"I know the bluff where the road bends. I'll find the clearing." 

"Good. Be there by midnight." 

There was a pause, as the samurai turned back to their food. 

"Kobayashi," Shinichiro began again. "Afterwards...?" 

"We ride south, direct to Satsuma. This job should get us enough for now. After we deliver, well, then we can see what else needs doing." He paused, sipped some tea. "Be sure to catch one of the guards' horses for yourself." 

Shinichiro was quiet for a moment. "I'll catch them both. For myself and my wife." There was a pause, then Shinichiro continued defensively. "She's samurai too; she won't slow us down." 

"Hm. Suit yourself." 

"I'll be ready," Shinichiro replied. "See you tonight." Then he got up to leave. 

Kenshin ducked behind his table again as Shinichiro walked past, thinking fast. So. Something was leaving town at dawn; a cart of some kind, obviously, since it had a driver, carrying something valuable enough that it needed two guards. Up the east road, since the coast road was level and didn't have any bluffs. They were going to ambush it. And Shinichiro was in it up to his neck. 

Well then, it was simple. He'd just have to change Shinichiro's mind and prevent the ambush, and then things would be fine. 

Kenshin got up and paid his bill (so expensive! He could scrape by for a week on that much!) and left. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Yukawa Shinichiro strode slowly up the east road, the rising moon shining yellow-white upon his dark clothing. The two swords, katana and wakizashi, hung at their distinctive angle from his left hip. His shoulder-length hair was pulled up sharply into a topknot, fluttering sideways in the breeze, made colorless by the moonlight. His long face was set into a mask of determination, grim and terrible, and the moonlight came nowhere near his eyes. 

He could have walked out of any time in Japan's long history. Any time but the last eight years. 

Kenshin was waiting for him, standing in the middle of the road at the top of the first rise just beyond the edge of town. The sight of Shinichiro's warrior profile in the moonlight made the hairs stand up on the back of his neck, but he kept his eyes wide and nonthreatening and his voice carefully calm. 

"Shinichiro-dono, please reconsider what you're about to do." 

Shinichiro came to a halt as Kenshin spoke, a good four yards in front of him. He glared at Kenshin with open hostility. 

"Himura Battousai. Get out of my way." Shinichiro's voice was low and harsh. 

Kenshin held his ground. "I won't let you do this." 

Shinichiro's eyes narrowed. "I should have cut your throat when I had the chance." He gripped the hilt of his sword. "Now move, if you value your life!" 

"Shinichiro-dono-" 

Shinichiro drew his sword with a yell and charged forward. 

Within the first swing Kenshin had identified his general style -- a common one among the samurai class of the Aizu region south of Kyoto, though Shinichiro's accent put him further north and west. It was a simple overhand slash, very powerful combined with the charge but not subtle. Kenshin sidestepped, reading the path of the blade and dodging it effortlessly. 

Shinichiro spun, whirling his sword around and turning the follow-through into another attack. Some local refinements to the style, then. And he was out of practise -- Kenshin could tell he hadn't swung a sword in these eight years. He jumped back, letting the sword whistle past his chest. Shinichiro pulled back and dropped into a stance, sword ready. Kenshin faced him calmly. The cool night breeze ruffled his hair. 

"Draw, damn you," Shinichiro growled. 

"I don't want to fight you, that I don't." Kenshin kept his hands at his sides, carefully away from his sword. This was going badly already. He hadn't expected Shinichiro to be so quick to draw his sword. He'd hoped to be able to talk him out of it without pushing him further over the edge. Kenshin tried a shot in the dark. 

"Shinichiro-dono, the revolution is over. Time has moved on. It's a different world now--" 

That got a reaction. "Yes it is, isn't it," Shinichiro snapped. "A different world. You destroyed my world." 

"What do you mean?" Kenshin asked cautiously. He thought he understood -- the old world of the samurai was gone -- but he wanted to keep Shinichiro talking. He tried another tack. "Clearly you know me, but I can't remember ever having seen you before." 

"You may not have seen me, but I saw you. On the night you changed the course of history, I saw you do it." 

Oro? Kenshin looked at him blankly. "What night was that?" 

"How can you not REMEMBER!" Shinichiro slashed the air, his sword whistling. "The last summer of the Bakumatsu, when we raided all your damn patriot hideouts. We would have ended it all then. The revolution would never have happened. There was no way we could have failed, but YOU turned back an entire troop of samurai!" 

Ah. That night. Yes, he remembered it. That had been a very bad night. A lot of people had died. The stifling air of a Kyoto summer, thick with the smell of blood.... But there was something odd about the way Shinichiro had said it. "What-?" Kenshin started, puzzled, but Shinichiro gave him no time. 

Shinichiro charged again, brought his blade up and slashed downward. Kenshin jumped aside fast, letting the sword miss him, and circled to his right. No, he'd been wrong, Shinichiro had swung his sword recently, and quite a lot. Some of his arm and shoulder muscles were sore from heavy recent practice. Kenshin could see it in the way he moved. 

"Of course, I remember that night, that I do. But there was nothing... historical about it." He paused to catch his breath, still circling. Not good, that he should be getting winded already. He could feel his heart pounding. "The Shinsengumi were always raiding us." 

"No. That was no ordinary raid. It was to be the final blow." Shinichiro was circling around faster now, sword held ready in front of him. Kenshin matched his movement, stepping steadily around to the right. "It should not have been stoppable. Not by anything human!" 

On the last word Shinichiro lunged at him, slashing quickly. Kenshin ducked under the swing then sprang up and backward, dodging the second attack on the follow-through. He landed badly, stumbling a little on the rutted earth of the road. The rhythm of Shinichiro's technique was easy to follow, but he was getting tired. It was starting to slow him down. Shinichiro swung again, the blade whistling past Kenshin's ear. A few strands of red hair drifted to the ground. He was breathing hard now. 

"That was the turning point," Shinichiro continued, his eyes smoldering. "That was where history diverged. One impossible event, to change the path of time." Shinichiro was circling again, faster, forcing Kenshin to keep up. "After that night everything fell apart." He smiled ironically, showing his teeth. "You did a good job." 

Shinichiro slashed downward again. Kenshin dodged it with a quick step backward, already preparing for the second attack. But it was a feint, swung with no power. Shinichiro flipped the blade fast, cutting short the follow-through, and lunged forward, slashing hard back to his right. Kenshin threw himself backward, but not quite fast enough. The tip of Shinichiro's sword caught him in a long horizontal slash across the lower ribs on his right side. 

Kenshin fell back, eyes wide with shock, the sudden pain disconnecting him momentarily from his body. He dropped to his knees, one arm flailing out behind him to stop him from falling. He'd felt the sword touch bone, just barely. He pressed his left hand and wrist across the cut to slow the bleeding and fought the pain, breathing fast. He should have been able to dodge that easily, should have been able to see it coming. He shouldn't be so exhausted already. 

Shinichiro was rushing towards him again, his sword held low at his right side pointing down and forward, coming in for the kill. He whipped it back, around, overhead and down-- 

Steel hit steel, sending a shock up Shinichiro's arms. Kenshin had drawn his sword, lightning-fast, pushing off from his back foot and launching himself forward to match the larger man's momentum with sheer speed. Shinichiro was thrown back a couple of steps by the impact, his lips parting in surprise. 

Kenshin glared at him, back on his feet and rock-steady, his eyes narrowed, sakabatou held loosely in his right hand throwing back moonlight from its sharpened edge. Shinichiro wavered and took a step back. The fire had gone out of his eyes, replaced by... what? Was it fear? 

Enough of this. "History doesn't mean anything!" Kenshin shouted. "It doesn't have a course; it's just what happened!" Kenshin took a step forward, and Shinichiro backed off, slowly, his eyes on the sakabatou. "What matters is the present. What matters is what you do, how you live, every day!" What did he have to do to get through to him? Kenshin's voice grew desperate. "What about your friends in this village? What about Eri-dono? You have a life here, Shinichiro, don't throw it away!" 

Shinichiro's eyes were wide, colorless in the moonlight. He took another step backward, then stopped himself. His jaw tightened and he met Kenshin's eyes. "You understand nothing about history." His voice was bitter. "You understand nothing about honor, either." He stopped, looking at Kenshin for a few seconds as if searching for words, then shook his head. "Go back to the Tobes, peasant." Then he turned to face the rising moon and walked away. 

Kenshin let out a breath and lowered his eyes. He squeezed the hilt of his sword, pressing the familiar texture of the wrappings into his palm and fingers. "Don't become a bandit, Shinichiro. It won't bring back your past." His voice was soft, almost pleading. 

Shinichiro stopped, his back to Kenshin. He paused for a moment, saying nothing. Then without turning around, he walked on. 

Kenshin watched him go, feeling depressed. The situation was more complicated than he'd thought. Shinichiro wasn't joining Kobayashi and his companions simply out of old loyalty to the samurai class. His motives were less transparent than that. Far less transparent -- Kenshin hadn't grasped half of what Shinichiro had said. All that stuff about history... what had that been about? 

Still, Kenshin hoped he'd given Shinichiro something to think about. He would let him go, give him a head start and then follow from a distance -- after all, he knew Shinichiro's destination. Shinichiro would have time to think undisturbed. He had until dawn, plenty of long quiet hours to change his mind. 

And Shinichiro aside, Kenshin would have to go anyway, to stop the samurai from whatever ambush they were planning. No point in letting innocent people suffer. 

Shinichiro had disappeared by now among the leafless trees. Time to go. Kenshin started forward. Then the pain hit him again, and he reeled. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Eri startled as Kenshin stumbled and fell to his knees, catching himself on his sword stuck tip-first into the ground. She sprung halfway to her feet, cracking and rustling the twigs of the thicket she'd been hiding in at the side of the road. 

"Please don't follow me any further, Eri-dono," Kenshin said, without looking up. He levered himself to his feet and sheathed his sword with a quick motion. 

Eri stood up, straightening her disheveled kimono, one sleeve swinging a little with the reassuring weight of her dagger. She brushed twigs from her hair. "You knew I was here." 

Kenshin glanced back at her. He looked tired and shaky, his face pale in the moonlight. His magenta gi was slashed open on the right side and there was blood on the skin underneath. "To tell the truth, I only noticed you were there when I drew my sword." 

Ah. She'd been afraid she'd given herself away at that point. "I thought Shinichiro was going to kill you." 

Kenshin shook his head, absently pressing his left hand across the cut over his ribs. "No need to worry, Eri-dono." He trailed off, glancing distractedly up the road again. "I should be going, that I should. Please expect Shinichiro back home by morning." He gave her a brief watery smile and started off. 

"Wait--" She climbed out of the bushes and onto the road. 

Kenshin looked back over his shoulder, through his bangs. "Oro?" 

"You're bleeding. At least let me bandage that." 

Kenshin stopped, looking down at the blood slicking his left palm and fingers as if he hadn't noticed it until now. 

"Come on, you've got time. Nothing's going to happen before dawn, right?" She walked up to him and grasped his left elbow. "Our house is just a few blocks from here." She tugged him along with her. He staggered in her wake, off-balance. 

"Oro-- Eri-dono-- you're hurting me, that you are..." His eyes had gone wide, but more with surprise than with pain. 

She stopped and steadied him. "Okay. I won't drag you..." He looked relieved. "...if you come along quietly." She smiled impishly behind her hand and hurried off again down the road, a bewildered Kenshin in tow. 

o-o-o 

Eri stopped to open her door, letting go of Kenshin's arm. He swayed a little, breathing fast, with a dazed look in his eyes. She hoped he wasn't going into shock. She'd probably dragged him along too fast back there. She'd been more than a little hysterical. She got the door open and led Kenshin inside. 

The large front room of her house doubled as her shop. A few finished kimonos were racked near the entrance, with others in various stages of construction scattered around the room. She kicked off her clogs and led Kenshin over to the low table she used for cutting fabric. 

"Here, have a seat and rest a little." He lowered himself carefully onto his knees on the cushion she indicated. She handed him a clean piece of scrap cloth. "Use this to stop the bleeding. I'm going to boil some water. I'll be right back." 

Eri hurried into the kitchen and lit the stove, filling a kettle and putting it on to boil. It would take several minutes for the water to heat up. She took the dagger out from her kimono sleeve and looked at it. She didn't expect any danger from Kenshin, but he had been a hitokiri, and there were still the samurai to worry about. She slipped it back into her sleeve. Best to stay prepared. She washed her hands carefully and then headed back to the front room. 

Kenshin looked up when she re-entered the room. He looked a little better, steadier and less dazed. Good. 

"How is it?" she asked, as she rummaged in a cupboard for the first-aid kit. 

"Not too bad. It's fairly shallow, that it is. I think it's stopped bleeding." He lifted the cloth carefully from his side and peeked under it. "Mostly." He pressed it back firmly against his ribs. 

Eri swept an armload of cut fabric off the table and piled it on top of some bolts of cloth lying on the tatami floor nearby. She opened up the first-aid kit, laying out a roll of bandages. Then she grabbed some bits of gauze and headed back to the kitchen. 

The kettle was boiling. Eri dropped the gauze into a shallow bowl and poured boiling water onto it. It would take a little while to cool down enough to use. She filled a teapot while she was at it. 

Kenshin was looking appreciatively around the room when she got back. "The clothing you make is very nice, Eri-dono," he said lightly, looking up at her with a smile. 

He must be feeling better. Maybe he wasn't so badly hurt after all. He had taken off his scarf and laid his sword on the floor next to him. 

She plonked the steaming bowl of water onto the table and sat down. "No, no, I'm really just a beginner," she said modestly. She checked the temperature of the water. Just about ready. "Let's get started, then." 

Kenshin shrugged out of his gi, switching hands several times to keep the pressure on his cut while he got his arms out of the sleeves. Then he peeled the cloth back carefully and laid it on the table. 

The cut was long, but it didn't look too deep, except in a couple of places where it ran over his ribs. It was still oozing blood in those spots. Eri squeezed hot water from a piece of gauze and dabbed at the cut. 

"Ow!" Kenshin flinched. 

"Hold still," Eri murmured. "You can take it." Kenshin tensed, looking away as she cleaned the cut. Best to do this as thoroughly as possible, to reduce the risk of infection. 

"Hm. This will need a few stitches." She started to get up. 

Kenshin laid a hand on her arm, stopping her. "No. Not now. Just bandage it, if you don't mind." 

"But-" 

"I'll take care of it afterwards, that I will." He smiled at her reassuringly. 

She was suddenly worried. "Afterwards?" she said. "You think you'll pull them out, don't you." She sighed and shook her head. "All right then." 

She wiped away the drying blood that had run down Kenshin's side, then fished out a tin of ointment from the first-aid kit and started dabbing it methodically onto the cut, starting at one end. Kenshin flinched again, wincing. 

"I know, it stings," she said soothingly. "But this'll help it heal faster." She got to the other end of the cut. "There, I'm done." Kenshin let out the breath he'd been holding. She covered the cut quickly with a large piece of gauze. "Hold this in place for me." Then she picked up a roll of bandages from the table and started wrapping them around Kenshin's ribcage. 

"You're very good at this," Kenshin commented appreciatively. 

Eri shrugged. "I'm a samurai's wife." She finished wrapping and tied off the bandage, then sat back. Kenshin put his gi back on, moving carefully. 

Eri got up. "I have some tea ready. Will you stay a little while?" She started towards the kitchen. 

"Eri-dono.... How did you know that nothing was going to happen before dawn?" Kenshin was watching her carefully, his eyes suddenly serious. 

She stopped. "Oh. That. While you were in the inn, I ran over to Hideki's to drop off some kimonos for the cart that's leaving tomorrow morning up the east road. I get orders sometimes from the mountain villages. He mentioned that a couple of guys would be riding with it as guards. I figured it out on the walk back here." She paused, meeting his eyes. "It's the tax money." 

o-o-o 

Eri sipped at her tea. Kenshin had recounted to her what he'd heard in the inn earlier in the evening. It all fit together. Samurai existed to serve, and thus naturally they had always been supported by those whom they served -- the regional lords or the shogunate itself, funded in turn by tax revenue. That had largely ended with the start of the Meiji era, although a few districts even now maintained their samurai, if only to keep them from starting rebellions. She nibbled at one of the rice balls she'd brought out from the kitchen and waited for Kenshin to continue. 

"There's one more thing I don't understand," he was saying, his voice slow and uncertain. "When I met Shinichiro on the road just now, he said some things about history. About certain... events around the time of the revolution. I think it's important that I understand it, but I don't." He looked at her with the request in his eyes. 

Eri nodded and set down her tea. This was something that she found difficult. "The revolution changed everything," she said. "For all of us. Of course, you know that. But to Shinichiro..." She trailed off. "I don't know how to explain it. He sees it as if... as if time ended then. As if it was the end of history, and what's happened in the years since then isn't really real in the same way as what happened before." 

Kenshin made a small frown, confused. "History. I still don't..." He looked aside for a moment, thinking, then met her eyes with an intensity that surprised her. "The revolution didn't really change things. Not that much, not as much as was hoped. We fought for a world of peace. But the weak are still made to suffer by the powerful." He trailed off, looking down, and swirled the tea around in his cup. He looked up again with a sad smile. "Still, I hope that things are a little better than they were, that I do." 

Eri was taken aback. What was he talking about? A world of peace? "No, you're wrong." She shook her head, her voice sharp. "Of course the revolution changed things. It changed everything. This country is practically unrecognizeable now, compared to how it was. When the Black Ships came..." She paused, trying to frame her argument. "You talked about the weak and the powerful. The revolution was supposed to make us strong, united, so we could defend against the foreign powers. But look what we've done to ourselves! The Black Ships don't even have to land now; we've destroyed ourselves from the inside!" 

Kenshin was watching her apprehensively. He almost looked intimidated. "I-- I'm sorry, I don't know very much about history." 

Could he be that ignorant? "You do know about the Black Ships, don't you?" 

"Yes, of course. But that's not why we fought for the revolution." 

Eri took a deep breath and let it out slowly, unclenching her hands. Don't get angry, she told herself. "All right," she said. "Don't worry about that part." Who knew what motivated a hitokiri? "As for Shinichiro, like I said, he seems to think that the real history was ended by the revolution. That what's happened since has just been random, and therefore it doesn't matter." 

"Oh!" Kenshin's face had lit up with a sudden realization. 

"What? Do you-" 

"Yes, I think so. He's lost his cause, that he has. The cause that he fought for before. And now, he thinks he's found a new one." Kenshin frowned. "This could be bad." 

Eri hadn't thought of it like that before. It made a kind of sense, but was too simplistic to be the whole story. She too could see the massive change that had taken place in the course of history. Unlike Shinichiro, though, she didn't attribute it to a single event. Or to a single person. She looked uneasily back at Kenshin. The red hair, the cross-shaped scar, the sword lying on the floor next to him, within easy reach. And incongruously, the big child-like blue-violet eyes, and the reversed blade. Why? 

"Himura-san..." 

Kenshin looked up from his musing. "Yes?" 

She had to know. "Why do you carry a reverse-blade sword?" 

"With a sakabatou, I can protect the people around me, without killing anyone." He smiled at her earnestly. "This is why I wander from place to place. It's... It's a small and unworthy attempt to pay back for all the people who sacrificed for the revolution." His smile had become sad. 

All the people who sacrificed for the revolution.... Sudden irrational rage flooded Eri's mind. How dare he! Her fingers curled around the handle of the dagger in her sleeve, knuckles whitening. "Is this why you're doing this?" she hissed, her voice a deadly whisper. "Is this why you're helping us? We fallen samurai?" 

Kenshin startled, looking off-balance and alarmed. Have I misunderstood, Eri wondered? "No, no," he was saying, hands up to calm her, or fend her off. "I meant no offense. I meant, for all the people who died." He looked to the side a little. "And all the people who were killed, by the hitokiri Battousai." There was pain in his voice. 

"Oh." Eri unclenched her hands. But now she was confused. Why the pain? His revolution had succeeded, he'd even made his name into a legend. "To pay back? I don't understand. You killed for the revolution. If you did your duty, then the honor is yours. If you failed your duty, then you should kill yourself and return the honor to your clan." 

Kenshin recoiled as if she had slapped him. "What...?" he whispered, his eyes widening with shock. "Where's the honor in killing?" He was almost shouting, losing control of his emotions. "Others OR myself? If by this life I can protect just one person, I'll do it, that I will!" 

He turned away suddenly, hiding his face behind his hair. His hands clenched the edge of the cushion. He was silent for some time, getting his breathing back under control. 

When he spoke, his voice was soft and hoarse. "Sumimasen. I should go." He got stiffly to his feet, keeping his eyes hidden, and picked up his sword. 

"Himura-san, wait--" 

He glanced at her, then quickly aside again, but she'd seen that his eyes were wet. 

What could she say? She'd hurt him, without even understanding how. "Take these with you, at least." She wrapped the rest of the rice balls in a scrap of cloth and handed them to Kenshin. 

"Arigatou, Eri-dono." He turned to go. 

Eri bit her lip. Kenshin slid open the door. "Himura-san... Thank you. Thank you for doing this. And, be careful." Don't get killed, she wanted to say. 

He'd stopped on the threshold while she spoke. He didn't look back, but from the side she could see him smile a little, without emotion. He stepped out into the night and the door rattled shut behind him. 

Eri stood for a long time, gazing at the closed door. Something had crystallized inside her. Until she had spelled it out for Kenshin, she had not quite realized how little her worldview had changed since the end of the Bakumatsu. Truly, Himura-san is no samurai, she thought. They were a world apart. 

Earlier, when she had talked to him in Akane's house, he had said it was his responsibility, that Shinichiro would not be doing this now if he had never seen him. She had been secretly glad then that he took the responsibility, since it bound him to help her. And it was true, as far as it went: it was only after that disastrous night at the Tobes' that Shinichiro had joined with Kobayashi's group. But more than that, it was her own responsibility. It was she who had suggested they go for dinner at the Tobes', she who had raised Kenshin's name, hoping that Shinichiro would recognize him from the past. 

She may have sent Shinichiro to his death. But more likely, she had sent Shinichiro to his dishonor, and Kenshin to his death. She'd seen how Shinichiro had cut him, even though her husband had only just now started swinging his sword again after these eight long years. And now, wounded already, against three samurai in active practise? 

She fingered the handle of the dagger in her sleeve. She was samurai too. And she knew about honor. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Kenshin walked between the trees, his eyes on the road in front of him. The breeze had died and the night had grown colder; dew was starting to form on the stiff brown tufts of grass on either side of the road. 

He could see the bluff now, about half a mile ahead, where a finger of pines and cedars ran down from the higher ground off to the left, a distinctive dark swath among the silvery branches of the otherwise leafless forest. A pale ribbon of smoke rose from behind it, just visible in the moonlight. The road in front of him ran gently downhill then made a sharp jag to the right at the base of the bluff before disappearing among the trees. 

He'd expected the walk to take him an hour and a half, two at the most. Instead it had taken him more than three even to get this far. It must be past midnight by now; the almost-full moon had reached its zenith more than an hour ago. 

He'd kept having to stop and rest. The rice balls had helped, but the truth was he was exhausted. He hoped he would have another chance to rest, preferably even get a little sleep, before he had to fight again. At least the cut over his ribs wasn't bothering him too much. Eri really had done a good job. 

He sighed. Eri. He hoped he hadn't annoyed her too much. He shouldn't have lost it like that, even tired as he was. He knew about the samurai code of honor, and considered it dead wrong. But the way she'd said it so blithely had hit a nerve. It was something he cared deeply about. Something he'd given a lot of thought. 

And there was something else about Eri that was bothering him. Something had changed in her. The first time he'd seen her, that morning in Hideki's warehouse, she had been happily enthusing over fabrics. She'd seemed so carefree. Tonight, though, there had been something much harder in her eyes. Not just the anxiety over her husband that he would have expected, but a sort of grim determination. And she'd been carrying a knife in her sleeve. As a samurai woman, she would have been taught how to use it. 

Maybe he shouldn't go back. He'd caused enough problems for the Yukawas already, and, to tell the truth, he was a little bit afraid of facing Eri again. Maybe it was time to go wandering again. Maybe. He certainly didn't want to go back eastward across the mountains, not until winter was well over. But he could go south along the coast; that wouldn't be too bad this time of year. Cut through the woods and then pick up the coast road south of town. Yes, it would work, if he could send Shinichiro back home on his own. Akane would probably worry about him, though. He'd feel bad not saying goodbye, after all she'd done for him. He'd have to be sure to send her a message through Shinichiro that he'd be all right. 

Kenshin stopped and looked up, studying the slope in front of him. He'd reached the point where the road bent around to the right. The bluff wasn't too steep on this side. Good; he'd be able to scramble up without making a sound. Better to climb over and try to find a good vantage point to watch their camp from above, rather than coming around on the road where they'd be more likely to see him. He scanned the hillside for a good route to the top. With the bright moon there was plenty of light among the leafless trees, but here the denser canopy of evergreens cast the hillside into shadow, making it much harder to see. 

A flicker of motion in the corner of his eye made Kenshin jump and turn sharply to the right, gripping his sword. He stared hard for a long moment down the darkened road where it ran onward into the tunnel of pines. Nothing. His eyes were starting to play tricks on him. He rubbed at them sleepily. Climb first, then rest, he thought. Okay. He adjusted his sword to a better angle and started up the hillside, silent on toes and fingers. 

o-o-o 

A knock at the door startled Eri out of her meditation. Could it be-- already--? She scrambled up from in front of the small household shrine and ran across the room. She yanked the door open and then stopped. 

"Akane?!" 

"Whoa, Eri, are you all right? What's the matter?" Akane had startled, stepping back a pace and bumping into Hideki, who was hovering behind her. 

"I-- I'm all right." Eri squared her shoulders, composing herself quickly. "Come in, come in." It was very late; Eri was surprised to see the Tobes still up. Akane would have closed up her restaurant hours ago. "Please, have a seat. I'll make some tea." She beckoned them in then started toward the kitchen. 

"No no, don't bother, we can't stay for long," said Akane. "We're looking for Kenshin. He hasn't come back." 

Eri stopped. "Oh." She turned back to face her friend. Her best friend. She hesitated. There was a gap between them, suddenly, one that hadn't been there before. How much would she have to tell Akane? She didn't want to talk about this, not now, not yet. Not with her. 

"When did you see him last? Did he seem okay?" 

Oh no... She couldn't tell Akane about Shinichiro. "Y- yes," she stalled, trying to think of something she could say that wasn't totally untrue. "Yes, he was here just a few hours ago..." 

"You know he's been ill, right?" 

In truth, she'd forgotten about it, too distracted by her worry over Shinichiro. "Well, yes," she said, "I was there with Hideki at the warehouse when he collapsed, remember?" She glanced over at Hideki. It seemed like a lifetime ago. She'd been admiring those silks. Those beautiful, trivial silks... "But he's fine now, right? Just a cold or something." 

Akane shook her head. She looked worried, distracted. She'd started pacing, a few steps back and forth each way on the tatami. "That fever nearly killed him." She glanced around the room, biting her thumbnail. "He was delirious for two days straight, then spent all of yesterday sleeping. This morning was his first time out of bed." She met Eri's eyes. 

Everything seemed to go very still around Eri, and the room tilted a little. Kenshin hadn't said anything to her about that. She swallowed, suddenly convinced that she really had sent him to his death. She understood now how Shinichiro had been able to cut him. A few details slipped into place. Kenshin had seemed tired, even before the fight. She'd caught him spacing out more than once during the afternoon. It had seemed odd at the time. Something a swordsman just couldn't afford to do. 

She was suddenly very conscious of the weight of the dagger in her sleeve. The cool, meditative calm from earlier that night sighed back over her, and she slowly relaxed. She could hope for the best, that Kenshin would bring Shinichiro back with his honor intact. But if Kenshin failed, the way ahead was still clear. Honor demanded it. 

But Akane... Akane wasn't going to understand. Just like Kenshin hadn't understood. Akane wasn't samurai. Eri couldn't expect her to understand. 

"I'm surprised he had any energy left at all by this evening," Akane was saying. "When you saw him last, did he say where he was going?" 

Oh Akane, Eri should have said, I think I've done a terrible thing. But she didn't feel anything. It was like she was watching them from somewhere outside of herself, disconnected from her own emotions. Akane was her friend, wasn't she? 

Tears prickled suddenly in the corners of her eyes, surprising her. 

Akane was looking at her. "Eri?" 

She nodded slightly. She'd have to tell them something. 

"It's Shinichiro, isn't it." Hideki spoke for the first time, watching her, his eyes unusually keen. "Something's up. Tell us, Eri. Please, you have to tell us!" 

All right. She'd tell them. If they thought badly of her, then so be it. Eri took a deep breath. "You'd better sit down," she said. 

o-o-o 

Kenshin crept forward as quietly as he could, crouched close to the ground, towards the ribbon of smoke rising from out of the clearing. After he'd crossed the ridge, the bluff had flattened out, running almost horizontally before dropping steeply away in front of him to the clearing a good fifteen feet below. 

Perfect. Kenshin lay down flat on his stomach in the thick carpet of pine needles and slithered forward until he could just see the camp through the scrubby leafless bushes and tufts of grasses growing out of the exposed soil at the edge of the drop. 

He could see why the samurai had chosen this spot. The clearing was sheltered from the west and north by the curve of the bluff, and a thick stand of cedars rose on the other side, completely blocking any view of the road. They'd built a campfire toward the north side of the clearing, dying down now to embers as the night wore on. Blankets were laid out near the fire. Kenshin could see three people sleeping. He looked around for the fourth, creeping forward a little more to get a better view of the near side of the clearing. 

There, just outside the glow of the fire, on the side closest to him. Kenshin shaded his eyes from the firelight and let them adjust to the deeper shadows. It looked like Shinichiro. He was sitting on the ground on a blanket of his own, resting his forearms on his drawn-up knees and staring into the embers of the dying fire. 

Kenshin's heart lifted. Shinichiro wasn't sleeping yet like the others were. He must be thinking about things. His posture spoke of serious doubts. Change your mind, Shinichiro, change your mind, Kenshin urged him mentally. 

This might not be as hard as he'd feared. If Shinichiro was having second thoughts -- and he ought to be; one didn't just throw away everything and set out on a life of wandering without a very good reason -- then he might just go back home to Eri on his own, without Kenshin needing to intervene at all. Then he'd only have to worry about preventing the ambush. If he was extremely lucky, he wouldn't even have to fight, if he -- or Shinichiro even, that would be terrific -- could convince the samurai to call off their attack. 

The bed of pine needles was soft and comfy. Kenshin let himself relax a little. It felt good to be lying down. He was really very tired. Since there was nothing much happening down below, he might as well nap for a while. He scooted backwards a couple of feet to be sure he wouldn't be visible from the clearing, and rested his face on his crossed forearms. 

o-o-o 

Shinichiro stared into the embers of the fire, his mind running around in circles. 

He'd drawn his sword on Himura Battousai. 

What in the world had he been thinking? Was he insane? He had spent the first part of the evening meditating, keying himself up, getting back into the mindframe of a samurai. He'd tied up his hair, dressed in his old fighting clothes, put on the swords. By the time he'd met Kenshin on the road, he was too intent on the night's mission to think rationally. 

He felt like he'd survived a brush with death, that he was lucky to be alive. He couldn't help feeling that it was Kenshin who had won the fight, despite the fact that he hadn't touched Shinichiro once. Despite the fact that he hadn't even drawn his sword until the very end. Despite the fact that it was Shinichiro who had drawn blood. 

His mind kept playing back what he'd seen this evening, comparing it to that fateful summer night in Kyoto. Kenshin had been moving very fast, easily dodging his strikes. Shinichiro certainly couldn't have moved like that himself. But it hadn't been the same as what he'd seen in Kyoto. What he'd seen in Kyoto had been close to supernatural, close enough that it had frozen him to the rooftop in terror. 

And in the end, Kenshin hadn't been fast enough to avoid the blade of his sword. After he'd reached the camp Shinichiro had spent much longer than necessary cleaning Kenshin's blood off the steel. Could it be that his memory had exaggerated that night in Kyoto? Could it be that there hadn't been anything supernatural, anything impossible, about that night after all? Could it be that, for all their planning, the raid had been stopped by a mere human being, albeit an incredibly skilled and extremely lucky one? 

And then there was Eri. 'What about Eri-dono,' indeed. He hadn't even told her what he was doing. He'd just assumed that he would swing by the house to pick her up after the night's adventure, and that she would come with him, leaving everything behind to ride off to Satsuma and an uncertain future. They'd done it once before. But the circumstances had been very different then. They'd had no choice. 

This time there was a choice. But what a choice! The obvious choice was to stay at home, to not get involved, to keep living their calm and pleasant lives among their friends. But it wasn't so simple. This was bigger than both of them. The samurai uprising fomenting in Satsuma was the best chance to fix this country, to pull it back from the disastrous path down which the Meiji government was taking it. They'd stripped away the institutions that made this country Japan, replacing them with foreign-inspired garbage. They'd started opening the borders, letting foreign traders take advantage of them (although Tokugawa hadn't done much better there...). They'd even brought in foreigners to advise them on setting up a so-called army of the peasantry (this was supposed to defend them against those very same foreigners?). How could he NOT get involved, given a chance like this? If ever he'd had a duty to his country and to his emperor, it was now. 

Shinichiro leaned back, arms propped behind him, and stared up into the starry sky. 


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Kenshin woke to the sound of movement in the camp below. He lifted his head off his folded arms and glanced at the sky. It had lightened from black to an intense, breathtaking indigo, and even the brightest stars were fading. Dawn was coming. He straightened out his arms in front of him and stretched like a cat. The back of his gi and hakama were damp with dew, but the pine needles had kept him relatively warm. He'd slept for a good five hours, and felt better for it. 

He slithered forward carefully to peek over the edge of the drop into the clearing. The four men were moving around, tidying the camp. He identified each of them in the dim light: Sakurai, rolling blankets and tying them into neat bundles; Shinichiro, stretching his back and swinging his arms, warming up; Tomonaga, doing something with a stack of gear near the ashes of last night's fire; and Kobayashi, putting bridles on the three horses tethered to a tree on the south side of the clearing. 

Shinichiro hadn't left them yet. A little disappointing. But there was still time. It was important that Shinichiro make the decision himself. And if not, well, Kenshin was ready to do whatever had to be done. He watched, and waited. 

o-o-o 

Up, step-down. Up, step-down. Up, swing-parry-slash. Shinichiro ran through his sword forms, warming up his muscles, his breath steaming a little in the chilly pre-dawn air. His movements were getting more fluid with the practice, like in the old days. And the exercise helped still the unease in the back of his mind. Up, step-down, turn-slash. Up-- 

Kobayashi was coming over. Shinichiro stopped and sheathed his sword, waiting silently while the older man approached. 

"Yukawa. You ready?" 

"Yes." 

"Mm." Kobayashi nodded. "Since you're a little out of practice, we'll take the guards. You go after the driver." 

"Go after..." Shinichiro hesitated, suddenly uneasy again. 

"Of course. No witnesses, and we can't take prisoners." Kobayashi turned and started back toward where Sakurai was burying the ashes of their fire. 

Shinichiro watched his retreating back, the air ringing slightly in his ears. "Kitano Kei," he said to himself. 

Kobayashi stopped and glanced back. "What was that?" His voice was casual. 

"Kitano Kei," Shinichiro repeated. "The driver. That's his name." 

Kobayashi turned back to face him, his eyes narrowing. "What are you trying to say? That you know him?" 

"I buy salted fish from his sister. His cousin works in my wife's best friend's restaurant." 

Kobayashi's expression had hardened. "No witnesses," he repeated forcefully. "And we can't take prisoners." 

"He's not a fighter," Shinichiro insisted, his voice rising. "He'll be unarmed. How can I just kill him?" 

The growing argument had attracted the attention of the other two. Tomonaga wandered over, his arms folded casually but his sharp eyes watchful. Sakurai had straightened up, curious, brushing wood ashes off his hands. 

Kobayashi shook his head, exasperated. "Are you going to risk the Satsuma uprising for this? He's nobody! Compared to saving this country, what's the life of one peasant?" 

Shinichiro gaped at him. "He's not 'nobody'! Nobody is 'nobody'! Himura was right, this is banditry, plain and simple!" 

"You've gone soft, living among the common folk." 

"No, you've gone crazy. This is no service to the country." Shinichiro turned angrily and snatched up his jacket from the ground. "I won't be a part of this." 

"Yukawa." Kobayashi's voice was cold, his round face deadly calm. Shinichiro couldn't help but stop and listen to him. "You must choose where lies your own duty. But know this. If you are not with us, then you are our enemy." He held Shinichiro's eyes. "No prisoners. No witnesses." 

o-o-o 

Kenshin tensed, watching the conflict unfolding in the clearing below. He'd been immensely relieved when Shinichiro had come around at last, but it looked as if Kobayashi wasn't going to let him go so easily. He started edging back from the drop, getting his knees under him so he could jump if he had to. 

Shinichiro and Kobayashi held each other's eyes. The silence lengthened. Sakurai and Tomonaga had drifted in closer, the tension obvious in their movements. One of the horses snorted and stamped its hoof. Sakurai glanced at the lightening sky, then back to Kobayashi, his mouth opening as if about to say something. 

Kobayashi spoke suddenly. "No more time. Choose now." 

Shinichiro didn't flinch. "Like I said," he replied, matching Kobayashi's tone. "I won't be a part of this." 

The tension in the air evaporated. Sakurai and Tomonaga had suddenly relaxed, stepping back from the other two as Kobayashi turned aside and casually wandered a few paces farther from Shinichiro. Kenshin let out the breath he'd been holding and started to relax as well, reacting to the body language of the samurai even as the alarm bells went off in the rational part of his mind. 

Kobayashi had stopped, turning back to face Shinichiro across the bare level earth of the clearing, but at an angle, not straight on. Shinichiro shifted his left foot backward a pace. Such a familiar stance. 

Kenshin froze as the adrenaline shot through his body, making his fingers ache and slowing time to a crawl. They were going to fight each other. 'No prisoners, no witnesses,' Kobayashi had said. They had relaxed not because the conflict was over, but because the decision had been made. 

Shinichiro put his hand on the hilt of his sword, shifting his weight backwards almost imperceptibly. 

Kenshin leapt. 

"YAMERO!!" he yelled with all his breath as he came down lightly on his toes in the middle of the clearing, fifteen vertical feet below and nearly as far horizontally. 

Shinichiro jumped back, incredulous. "Himura?!" 

Kenshin whirled to face Kobayashi. "Stop it! Just stop it and go home! All of you!" he shouted, turning to include Sakurai and Tomonaga. 

Tomonaga was starting forward, anger lighting in his severe face, his hand going to his sword. "You were followed, Yukawa," he snarled. 

"No! I made sure--" 

Kobayashi held up a hand, silencing them. He considered Kenshin impassively. "Yukawa," he said, in a conversational tone. "Do you know this person?" 

"I, uh..." Shinichiro stammered, the incongruity killing the drama. "Yeah," he finished lamely. "He's Himura Battousai, the hitokiri." 

Kobayashi looked Kenshin up and down. Mostly down. Kenshin shifted a little from foot to foot, trying to keep from looking sheepish under the cold scrutiny of those hooded eyes. 

"Pull the other one," Kobayashi said, "it's got bells on." He turned away dismissively. Sakurai snorted, suppressing a laugh. Kobayashi glanced over at him. "Sakurai. Take him over there while we finish this." 

Sakurai was trying not to smile, his expressive eyes full of amusement. He gave a quick nod and loped over, reaching for Kenshin's arm. 

Kenshin twisted his shoulders slightly, avoiding Sakurai's grip. He kept his eyes on Kobayashi. "No. Let Shinichiro go. If you have to fight someone, fight me." 

Kobayashi seethed. 

Shinichiro cut in to the silence, speaking fast in an undertone. "Get out of here, Himura, this is my fight." 

Kenshin twitched away as Sakurai tried to grab him again, keeping his eyes on Kobayashi. "No," he hissed back. "They'll kill you and you know it. Leave now while you can." 

Kobayashi swore. "We don't have time for this. Sakurai, just kill him so we can get on with it." 

Sakurai looked to Kobayashi in surprise, then nodded resolutely. He stepped back a few paces and faced Kenshin carefully. Kobayashi and Shinichiro had both backed off a little, giving him room to maneuver. 

Kenshin watched Sakurai calmly, his eyes round and a little disappointed. The samurai was young, a little younger even than Kenshin himself. If he'd fought in the revolution at all, it could only have been at the very end. Sakurai was young enough still to choose the course of his life. In this Meiji era, why had he chosen the futureless life of a swordsman? 

Sakurai drew his sword and saluted Kenshin with it, then spoke, his words formal and polite. "Who are you really? Will you tell me your name and the name of your clan before you die?" 

Kenshin smiled at the anachronistic formula. "I'm nobody important, that I am. Just a rurouni." Time to get this over with. He drew his own sword. 

"Reverse-bladed...?" Sakurai's face clouded with dismay. "What is this? Is this a joke?" He sounded hurt, as if something important had been taken from him. He glanced toward Kobayashi. 

"Get on with it!" Kobayashi hissed. "We have no time!" Dawn was coming fast. The sky above the mountains to the east had turned that indistinct color somewhere between green and pink. 

Sakurai took a deep breath and turned back to Kenshin. "Prepare yourself," he said, and attacked. 


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Kenshin gave Sakurai a moment's head start before sprinting forward, meeting the samurai's charge halfway in a crashing flurry of swords. Sakurai's style was flowing, elegant, with big sweeping motions ending in flourishes -- a far cry from Kenshin's own minimalist technique. But he was fast, and strong. They flew apart with a screech of steel. 

Kenshin landed on both feet and spun around, ready for the next attack. The cut in his side was stinging again; the motion had tugged at it and he'd felt something give. No big deal though. He could handle this. 

Sakurai was smiling, delighted, his cheeks flushed and exhilaration in his eyes. "You touched me!" he exclaimed. "If you had a real sword, you would have drawn blood!" He flicked his eyes toward Kobayashi, then back to Kenshin. "If you joined us..." 

Kenshin shook his head a fraction. "Let Shinichiro go." 

Sakurai looked disappointed for a moment, then shrugged dismissively. He met Kenshin's eyes and gave a small nod, as if to cue the next charge, and sprang forward. 

Kenshin leapt at the same instant, slashing in at Shinichiro's center line, pressing forward. Faster. Sakurai dodged, blocked, twice, three times, and then sprung forward himself, his long black topknot flying behind him. Kenshin ducked under the first swing, blocked the next two and dodged the fourth. Sakurai was forcing him back. He clenched his teeth and threw himself forward -- faster! -- but Sakurai met his lunge in a close press of swords and they were nose-to-nose for an instant before they hurled each other apart. 

Kenshin slid to a halt next to Shinichiro, breathing hard. His sleeve fell open; tiny beads of blood made a line across his upper arm. 

"Shinichiro. Run. Get out of here now." 

He kept his eyes nailed to Sakurai. Shinichiro hadn't seemed to hear him. No time to repeat. Sakurai was gathering himself to spring again, his dark eyes hungry. But Kenshin was in his element, the adrenaline singing in his blood. He raced forward again -- faster, faster! -- this time a fraction of a second before Sakurai, and their swords met in a rapid ting-ting-ting before they flew apart again. 

Kenshin ricocheted off a tree (his ponytail snagging on a branch; he yanked it free with a jerk of his head) and flew at Sakurai again, their two swords cutting the air into ribbons. 

o-o-o 

Shinichiro watched, or tried to watch, his eyes registering only the arcs of reflected dawnlight left by the flashing swords in front of him, the black ribbon of Sakurai's hair and the red fan of Kenshin's, pulled loose by an encounter with a tree just a moment ago. His heart was pounding, the hairs standing up on the back of his neck. 

This was what he'd seen in Kyoto. 

Only, it wasn't! It still wasn't! Fast as Kenshin was moving, Sakurai was holding his own. And there was something desperate now creeping into Kenshin's style. He was tiring, much faster than Sakurai was. To another swordsman, it was obvious. 

The two flew apart, paused for the blink of an eye, and crashed together again. Enough time for Shinichiro to see the blood spotting through the bandages wrapped around Kenshin's ribs. So that was why. 

He almost stepped forward. He had caused that. 

Shinichiro was well aware that he would most likely lose in a fight against Kobayashi. He'd been aware of it when he'd taken Kobayashi's challenge rather than be a part of their ill-advised ambush, choosing his own path of honor even if it led to his death. There had never been any question. He was samurai. 

And now he was aware that Kenshin was trying to save his life. Why? What could he possibly mean to Himura Battousai? For whatever reason, Kenshin was trying. And it looked like he was going to fail. Shinichiro almost laughed at the irony. So this was his karma. Kenshin's blood on his sword the night before, and because of that, his own blood on Kobayashi's this morning. 

Kenshin had paused, crouching slightly with his eyes narrowed, standing still for just a moment too long as Sakurai whirled towards him, his blade swinging in an unstoppable horizontal arc. 

Shinichiro stopped breathing. This was it. 

o-o-o 

Now. 

Kenshin jumped high into the air as Sakurai slashed into the space where he'd been just a moment before. He tucked his knees, pulling in his sword as he reached the top of the arc and started to fall, hair floating weightless behind his head. Sakurai finished his swing, still not yet aware that his target had moved. 

Kenshin brought the blunt steel down hard across Sakurai's shoulder. Sakurai staggered, knees folding, and slumped limply to the ground. 

Kenshin landed awkwardly, stumbling a little. Sakurai was down, unmoving. But something-- He caught a flash of motion from the corner of his eye and spun, throwing up his sword barely in time to block Tomonaga's overhand swing, then the second and third, easily as fast as Sakurai but straight and sudden, without the readable lead of arm and shoulder-- 

Kenshin's guard was up, over his head, and Tomonaga took the opening, twisting his hips to land a vicious turning kick on Kenshin's bandaged ribs. 

Kenshin felt something tear in his side, the pain cutting through the sudden numbness of the impact as his feet left the ground. 

His fingers clenched instinctively on the handle of his sword. He'd been taught that a long time ago. 

'Rule number one. Don't let go of your sword. If you lose your sword, you die.' 

The ground hit him, hard, knocking the breath out of his lungs. He skidded on hard earth, scraping skin off his knuckles, not sure which way was down. 

Someone was shouting his name. 

"Himura! Himura!" 

"Get up, boy." 

"Don't bother, Tomonaga, there's no time, just kill him." 

"Himura!" 

Kenshin forced air into his lungs. Darkness swirled around him. 

'Rule number two. Keep breathing. If you don't breathe properly you'll black out, and if you black out, you die.' 

The sound of another sword being drawn, almost directly above him. 

"Yukawa?! What the hell are you doing? Get out of the way!" 

"No." Shinichiro's voice, clear and calm. Then a tense silence. 

Kenshin clenched his teeth and lifted his head. 

'Rule number three. Ignore the pain. If you live through the fight, you can deal with your injuries later.' 

His vision cleared in time to see Shinichiro springing forward from beside him to meet Tomonaga's rush, their swords keening as they scraped past each other. Bad, very bad... 

Shinichiro blocked Tomonaga's next strike and then half-turned, slashing upwards. A thin spray of blood followed the arc of his sword, spattering to the ground not far to Kenshin's left. Tomonaga staggered back, his peaked eyebrows shooting upward in surprise. 

"Shinichiro!" Kenshin gasped, pushing himself up with his hands and pulling his knees under him. Too fast, it was all moving too fast, and Kobayashi was rushing towards him now from the other direction, pulling out his sword.... 

Tomonaga's face twisted in rage and he launched himself back at Shinichiro with a bloodcurdling scream, his sword tracing an arc of light through the air above him. 

Kenshin pushed off desperately from the ground, straightening his legs and bringing his sword up to block Kobayashi's first strike. It jolted him back, wrenching his shoulder, nearly making him fall. No time... He twisted, planted one foot as he parried Kobayashi's second swing, and jumped. Too slow... Tomonaga had just made contact, slashing Shinichiro across the chest, and Shinichiro was falling, Tomonaga bringing his sword up in both hands, ready to stab-- 

Kenshin tucked his knees and hammered his sword down across the back of Tomonaga's shoulders. Tomonaga went down like a felled tree. 

Kenshin landed lightly on his toes and started to spin back towards Kobayashi. His left leg buckled unexpectedly and he went down, a thin line of pain shooting upwards from the outside of his knee. What--? He glanced down momentarily, trying to get his feet back under him. There was a long slash down the outside of his hakama, blood on the edges of the white fabric. 

Annoying. It would slow him down. Kenshin was back on his feet, just a little unsteady, his weight on his right leg. He watched Kobayashi through narrowed eyes, sakabatou in both hands. The samurai had his wakizashi out, held left-handed in a backwards grip. It must have just clipped him when he'd jumped. 

Kobayashi wasn't attacking. He was walking slowly to one side, almost sauntering, his round face calm and relaxed. But his eyes were full of rage. Kenshin shifted awkwardly to keep Shinichiro behind him. Something warm ran down his side below the bandages, tickling him. He ignored it. 

"Himura..." It was Shinichiro, struggling to lift his head. 

Kenshin ignored him too, keeping his eyes on Kobayashi. The samurai was slowly making a half-circle around the edge of the clearing. Kenshin shifted again to his right, staying in front of Shinichiro. Sweat dripped from the tip of his nose. 

At last Kobayashi came to a halt and turned towards him, sheathing his wakizashi and stilling into a subtle stance, katana in both hands. It was to be a single charge, then. This was it. 

Kenshin sheathed his sword deliberately and dropped into the stance for battoujutsu, right foot forward, left foot back, knees deeply bent. He held the sheath in his left hand, right hand hovering ready in front of him with fingers spread. 

Kobayashi waited. Ten seconds. Kenshin's knees started to tremble. Twenty seconds. Thirty-- 

The sun peeked above the mountain directly behind Kobayashi, hitting Kenshin in the eyes. He blinked, his vision dazzled, and in that moment Kobayashi sprang. 

But it didn't matter. Kenshin didn't need to see to do this. He pressed the sakabatou hard against the outside curve of the sheath and drew as fast as he could. 

He felt the blunt edge of his sword connect perfectly with Kobayashi's solar plexus, felt the slight change in Kobayashi's momentum that sent the samurai flying over Kenshin's right shoulder, leading the arc of his sword. His arm reached full extension. He heard Kobayashi hit the ground behind him. 


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Kenshin's knees buckled and he fell forward, nearly blacking out. The intense strain of the battoujutsu had torn something again in his right side. He gasped for breath, fighting the urge to curl up around the pain. No time for that now. Shinichiro was hurt. 

He propped himself up on his arms, head down, blinking at the spots in front of his eyes. There was a weird noise in his ears, a kind of rumbling, with a rhythmic clop-clop-clop like horses' hooves... He jerked his head up quickly, and nearly blacked out again. Oh yeah, the cart, he thought as he sagged back to the ground. The sound had passed quite close by and was receding now. 

Kenshin took a few careful breaths and got up onto his knees again. There, that was a little better. He sheathed his sword and crawled over to where Shinichiro was lying. 

Shinichiro had propped himself up on one forearm and was watching him, his long face screwed up with pain. "Himura... You're bleeding..." 

"I know. Don't worry about it." Kenshin examined him quickly. Shinichiro had a long gash running at an angle across the upper part of his chest, bleeding sluggishly. He cast around for something to wrap it with. He should have asked Eri for some extra bandages. He glanced down at the ones around his own ribs, but they were soaked through with blood. That wouldn't do. He pulled off his scarf and wrapped it twice around Shinichiro's chest, tying it tightly. 

All right, now to get Shinichiro home. There was no way he could carry him back, not five miles, not in this condition. But on horseback.... 

He squeezed his eyes shut and took a couple of quick deep breaths, then got to his feet and started over toward the horses. 

Tomonaga was lying nearby, still out cold. Kenshin paused, crouching down to check his injuries. Shinichiro had given him a cut on the shoulder, but it was shallow and didn't look too serious. It had stopped bleeding already. He'd be all right. Kenshin straightened up again, tucking his hair back over his shoulders. 

"Himura." 

Kenshin jumped aside from the sound, startled, his right hand drifting towards his sword. 

"Himura Battousai. That's who you are, isn't it." It was Sakurai, awake, watching him from where he lay on the ground but making no other move. 

Kenshin nodded, relaxing a little. 

"Why didn't you kill us?" 

"I don't kill people. Not any more." 

"Even though we intend to bring down your Meiji government?" It sounded like a challenge, but it wasn't; there was only curiosity in Sakurai's eyes. 

"It's not my government. Who am I to tell you not to support a revolution? But please remember that if you plunge this country back into war, it's the people who will suffer, that it is." 

Sakurai nodded. That seemed to satisfy him. 

"Sakurai," Kenshin went on, a little out of breath, "I'm going to borrow one of your horses. To take Shinichiro back to town. I'll return it to your inn afterwards, that I will." 

Sakurai nodded again, and smiled weakly. "Take the brown one with the white stockings. It'll stand still for you." 

"Thank you," Kenshin said, a little surprised. He limped over to the horses and untied the one Sakurai had recommended. It whuffled and nudged him a little. He ought to put a saddle on it, but he didn't think he had the strength left to cinch it down properly. He knew a loose saddle was far worse than none at all. 

As the adrenaline wore off it was starting to hurt to breathe. Aside from the cut, his ribs were quite badly bruised. He was lucky Tomonaga hadn't broken them. He started back across the clearing, the horse following docilely. 

"Himura Battousai." Sakurai spoke again as Kenshin came near. "I hope I have the chance to meet you again, under different circumstances." 

Kenshin stopped, touched. "Thank you," he said again, meeting Sakurai's eyes. "And, my real name is Kenshin, that it is." 

o-o-o 

Later, Kenshin would never be sure exactly how he'd managed to get Shinichiro up onto the horse. Shinichiro had been sitting up and watching when he'd returned and had been able to help a little, but still, it had to have been some combination of desperation and panic that had made it possible. 

The first time he'd tried to clamber up onto the horse behind Shinichiro he'd pulled at his cut again and nearly fainted, sliding back down to the ground. He'd had to sit still for a couple of minutes with his head between his knees before he could try again. Fortunately he'd managed to argue Shinichiro out of climbing down to help him. The second time he was more careful, and succeeded, with an awkward arm up from Shinichiro. 

The horse was a blessing. It stood still through all of this, tolerant and bored, then when they were ready it picked its way through the cedars and started down the road back towards town. Shinichiro was leaning forward low over the horse's neck, his hands wrapped in its mane. He'd clearly ridden before. Kenshin held on with his legs, clinging to Shinichiro with one hand and holding the reins loosely in the other, and nudged the horse into a smooth canter. 

o-o-o 

"Eri-dono! Eri-dono!" Kenshin yelled as they approached the house, knowing he sounded hysterical and not caring. Shinichiro had started to go limp and he was holding on to him as best he could, his other hand tangled in reins and mane, steering the horse with his knees. The little gate in front of the Yukawas' garden was closed. No way to stop. If he let go of the mane to pull back on the reins, he'd fall off. The horse took the gate at a canter, sailing smoothly over and landing with a jolt on the path on the other side. Kenshin gasped against the wrenching pain in his side. Shinichiro started to slide sideways. "Eri-dono!!" 

There she was, coming out of the doorway at last, the morning sun bright on her glossy black hair, her deep green kimono. Hideki was behind her. 

The horse had no more space to run. It tossed its head and danced in a circle, leaving deep hoof-prints in the straw-covered garden soil, the turning motion pulling Shinichiro farther over to the side. Kenshin clung to him desperately, pulling hard on the horse's mane. He was starting to slide sideways as well, starting to lose his grip. In a moment they would both fall off. 

"Eri-dono! Help me! I can't--" 

She was finally there, catching the reins under the horse's muzzle and pulling it to a halt, and Hideki too, stopping Shinichiro's downward slide. 

Shinichiro stirred and lifted his head, looking down at them. "Eri," he said indistinctly. So he was awake, after all. "I'm back, everything's all right." 

Good. Kenshin had been a little worried about how Shinichiro would react once his rescue was complete. This seemed to be fine. Elation started to stir inside him. 

Hideki was lowering Shinichiro down off the horse. Kenshin leaned forward after him, slowly letting out the tension in his arm, his cramped muscles reacting unevenly. 

Okay, Hideki had him now; Shinichiro slithered his leg over and off the horse and he was down. Hideki slung one of Shinichiro's arms around his neck and Eri took the other. They lifted him and started toward the house. 

Kenshin closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Now that it was over, he was trembling with exhaustion and felt a little sick. But he'd done it! He'd changed Shinichiro's mind, brought him back home, prevented a bit of banditry. Everything was great. He smiled and patted the horse on the side of its neck. The horse. He should take it back to the inn for Sakurai. But no way was he jumping that gate again. Best to get off and walk. 

o-o-o 

Akane hesitated at the bottom of the steps, watching through wide eyes. Shinichiro was hurt, pretty badly by the way he was moving. Eri and Hideki had gotten him off the horse and propped him up between them, an arm around each of their shoulders. They hurried towards the house. She made way for them as they stepped up onto the porch. 

Shinichiro glanced up at her as they lifted him up the steps. "Akane... Make sure Himura..." Then they were through into the house. Akane looked back sharply at the horse and rider. 

The horse was standing still on the path, waiting patiently. Kenshin swung a leg around behind him and slid down off the horse's bare back. His knees gave and he folded smoothly all the way to the ground, bracing his arms in front of him, still holding the reins in one hand. His hair was untied, falling free like a red curtain down his back and forward across his shoulders, hiding his face. 

Akane hurried forward. The horse snuffled at Kenshin's hair and nudged him, making him sway a little. As she got closer, Akane could see that his clothes were scuffed and dirty. 

And covered with blood. 

She faltered. The air had gone very quiet around her. 

Big dark splotches on his pink gi, red standing out sharply against the white of his hakama, blood drying on the hilt of his sword... 

Hideki rushed past her, saying something about going for the doctor, and she nodded distractedly in reply. Her heart had started to pound in her ears, drowning out the sounds around her. She started forward slowly. 

'He cut right through the troop. He could have slaughtered them all...' 

'Even if it's reverse-bladed it can still cut; all he has to do is turn it over...' 

'I'll need my sword, that I will, Akane-dono.' 

She stopped beside him. 

"You killed them, didn't you. Those three samurai." There was more emotion in her voice than she'd intended. Why did she feel like he'd betrayed her? 

Kenshin looked up at her from the ground, startled. "No!" 

Those blue-violet eyes... How could he look at her like that, after this? Akane's throat constricted. 

"Don't lie to me!" she wailed. "There's blood all over you!" 

Kenshin flinched at her tone, cowering down like a cornered rabbit. "It's-- It's all right--" he stammered, glancing down at his clothes. Then he met her eyes again, and smiled hopefully. "--because it's mine, that it is." 

Akane stopped. "Yours...?" Now she noticed the slashes in his clothing, the blood-soaked bandages around his ribs. "Ohh..." She stared at him. So much blood... She was starting to feel a little queasy. 

"Um... Akane-dono?" Kenshin was watching her, concerned. "Are you all right? You look a little..." 

Akane shook her head briskly, taking a deep breath. What was she thinking! He could be bleeding to death under those bandages... "Kenshin!" Her voice sounded a little hysterical. "You're hurt; we have to get you inside! Here, let me help you..." She reached down to help him up, then paused, looking for a place without any blood to grab hold of. 

He started trying to get to his feet, giving her a giddy smile. "No, really, Akane-dono, I'm all right, that I am, I can--" 

Right arm looked good. She took hold of it in a strong hand and hauled Kenshin to his feet. He gasped and reeled. Akane grabbed at his other shoulder to steady him, getting a little blood on her hand and pulling back, afraid to hurt him. He threw his left arm out to the side to catch his balance. He still had hold of the reins in that hand. 

The horse had finally had enough. It snorted, annoyed, and tossed its head, pulling back hard on the reins, yanking Kenshin out of her grip. He went flying and hit the ground, narrowly missing one of Eri's gray-green juniper bushes, finally losing hold of the reins. The horse tossed its head again, jumped lightly over the gate, and trotted off up the road with a swish of its tail. 

"Kenshin!" Akane dove to her knees beside him, her hands hovering, not sure what to do to help. 

He was watching the horse go, sideways, his cheek resting on the straw, a small indignant frown on his face. "That was Sakurai's horse," he said indistinctly. "I was supposed to return it to the inn." He still hadn't moved. 

"Kenshin? Hello?" 

He glanced up at her and smiled cutely. "No need to worry, Akane-dono, I'm all right, that I am." He sat up carefully, then started to climb to his feet again. "Let's go make sure Shinichiro is all right." 

Akane helped him up, more gently this time. They started towards the house. Kenshin weaved, leaning on her heavily for support, but they made it inside. 


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

"You again!" 

"Oro?" Kenshin looked up from the floor at the small gray-haired man. He hadn't noticed him come in. Hideki either. Must have been spacing out again. 

"Never mind," the man was saying, "I'll explain later." He set down his large black bag on the floor and started to crouch down in front of Kenshin. "Let's have a look at those injuries." 

"No, no! I'm fine! Take care of Shinichiro, he's badly hurt, that he is!" Kenshin waved the man away defensively. 

Eri had glanced up, worried, about to say something, but now she looked relieved. "Watanabe-sensei," she said, as she moved aside a little to make room for him in front of her husband. The doctor hurried over. 

Akane stuck her head out from the kitchen. "Water's boiling," she said. 

"Good, bring it out here," Eri said quickly. "And start another kettle, would you?" 

Kenshin watched as Watanabe peeled back the cloth Eri had been pressing across Shinichiro's sword slash. Kenshin was worried about him. By the time he and Akane had made it into the house, Eri had gotten Shinichiro lying down already and was applying pressure to his cut, although it seemed to have stopped bleeding for the most part already. He guessed there was not much else she could do until she'd boiled some water. That had been only a few minutes ago. Shinichiro looked alert enough now -- his eyes were open and clear -- but he was obviously in pain. 

Akane ducked back into the kitchen momentarily and emerged with a steaming kettle. She set it down on a pot-holder on the low wooden table. 

Hideki touched her shoulder. "I'll take care of the next one," he said in an undertone, heading toward the kitchen. Akane nodded briefly in reply. 

"This is a sword cut," Watanabe was saying in a low calm voice. "What happened?" 

Shinichiro froze, his eyes fixed on Watanabe. To Kenshin, he looked incredibly guilty. "We-- ah--" 

"Bandits!" Kenshin interjected. All eyes turned to him. He looked back at them earnestly, his own eyes wide. "We ran into some bandits on the road, that we did. East of town." Watanabe seemed to be buying it, but Eri and Akane looked skeptical. Shinichiro was staring at him, perplexed; suddenly his eyebrows shot up as he realized what Kenshin was doing. Well, it's true, Kenshin thought. He noticed Shinichiro had untied his hair from his topknot. Good, that would have been tough to explain. Or maybe Eri had done it. 

"Bandits, my gosh." Watanabe had gotten back to work, pouring hot water at the low table. "Haven't heard about many of those since the revolution." He started to swab at Shinichiro's cut with a piece of gauze, then stopped suddenly, and turned to Eri, his bright black eyes round as buttons. "I wonder if they were after the trade cart!" 

"Probably!" Kenshin cut in, before Eri could say anything. 

Shinichiro was frowning, looking between Watanabe and Kenshin. "Himura..." he started to say. 

"Do you think they attacked it?" Watanabe looked amazed, excited as a schoolboy. He gasped suddenly and turned to Akane, alarmed. "Akane, isn't it your Aki-kun's cousin or uncle or something that drives that cart?" 

"I think--" Kenshin interrupted, "I think they were too busy with us. I heard the cart go by at some point, that I did." He was really getting into this. Eri was looking at him surreptitiously, an odd expression on her face. She looked away when he met her eyes. 

"Wow," Watanabe breathed. He fished a fresh piece of gauze out of the bowl of hot water and got back to work, dabbing efficiently at Shinichiro's chest. "Heh. Good thing Shinichiro was there. Our own samurai." Shinichiro's frown deepened. Watanabe smiled warmly down at his patient, admiration on his face. Shinichiro's swords were on the floor next to him. 

"Yes," said Kenshin. "He saved my life." Shinichiro shot him an incredulous look under Watanabe's arm. Well, it's also true, Kenshin thought. He was trying not to smile, and failing. He felt giddy, elated. Everything is perfect, he thought. His cuts didn't even hurt that much anymore. 

o-o-o 

"Kenshin?" Akane said, and nudged his shoulder. Kenshin was still sitting on the floor where she had left him earlier. He'd curled forward to rest his forehead on one propped-up knee, his hair brushing the floor on either side. He lifted his head at her touch and glanced around. 

"That was fast," he said. 

Eri was helping Shinichiro out into the short hallway that led off the main room, holding onto his arm and talking to him in a low voice, their heads close together. 

Akane watched as Watanabe set down another bowl of fresh boiled water on the floor and knelt down, organizing his equipment on the tatami. 

"Okay," he said to Kenshin, "your turn." He helped Kenshin out of his gi and started to untie his bandages. Akane looked away uncomfortably. She'd tried not to watch while Watanabe stitched up Shinichiro, but she was feeling queasy anyway. Eri had been much stronger about it, actively helping. Akane was glad about that; she'd been worrying about Eri since they'd come over late last night. 

Kenshin jerked back suddenly. "Wait--" he said, "Shinichiro-- Will Shinichiro be all right?" He looked belatedly towards the doorway. Eri and Shinichiro had already disappeared inside. 

"Yes, yes, don't worry," Watanabe replied soothingly. "I fixed him up already. He wasn't hurt too bad and the bleeding's stopped. He should heal up fine and be back on his feet in a week or so." 

Kenshin nodded vaguely and relaxed a little, looking aside. Watanabe got the bandage untied and unwrapped it quickly, dropping the whole blood-soaked mess into another bowl. 

Akane turned away again. Maybe she should do some tidying, yes, that would be helpful. She took a deep breath and gathered up the bowls Watanabe had been using for Shinichiro, then headed into the kitchen. Hideki was watching the kettle, obviously trying to stay out of the way. They exchanged a small smile as she turned back to the living room. 

Watanabe sucked air between his teeth, probing at Kenshin's side. 

"There's nothing broken," Kenshin said, his voice suddenly gone high and wavery. He'd squeezed his eyes closed and was looking a little pale. 

"Okay. I was just checking." Watanabe glanced up at her. "Hey, Akane?" 

"Yeah? Do you need help?" She hurried over. 

Watanabe leaned aside to speak to her confidentially. "Can you let him lean on you? He's in shock and he's probably going to pass out any minute now; I don't want him to hurt himself any more when he does." 

Akane's eyes widened. "Okay," she squeaked. She could handle this, she kept telling herself. If Eri could handle it, she could too. She slid in next to Kenshin and laid a hand awkwardly on his back. 

"You don't have to do this, Akane-dono, I'm all right, that I am," he mumbled, but he leaned against her anyway. 

Akane didn't watch, trying hard to think about other things. But she could feel the tension in Kenshin's shoulder leaning against her, feel his small movements as he tried not to flinch. 

After what seemed like a very long time, Watanabe straightened up. "Okay! That's done," he said. 

Kenshin stirred and sat up, blinking and breathing carefully. 

"Are you doing all right?" 

Kenshin nodded slightly, his eyes on the tatami in front of him. 

"Okay then, I'll just wrap the bandages." 

Akane lifted Kenshin's unruly hair while Watanabe wrapped gauze around his ribs. 

"All right, let me take a look at that leg now." Watanabe eyed Kenshin critically. "Do you want to lie down for this?" 

Kenshin looked up. He'd gotten his breath back and looked a little less shaky. "No... this is all right," he said. "Please, go ahead." He started to fumble with the ties of his hakama. "But it's a little cold, that it is, and..." He trailed off, glancing meaningfully up at Akane. 

"Oh!" she said, blushing a little, but glad to see him alert enough to think of modesty. Better not tell him she'd changed his yukata when he was ill. "I'll ask Eri for a blanket." 

o-o-o 

Watanabe had cleaned, stitched and bandaged the cut in Kenshin's leg and sponged off his collection of scrapes and scratches. He sat back and stretched his shoulders, his joints cracking. 

"What a morning," he commented. 

Kenshin was sitting huddled in the blanket, his head down and his eyes closed. But he'd hung in there through it all. Watanabe was impressed. 

Akane had been hovering in the kitchen doorway, watching as he'd finished up. Now she came hesitantly back into the room. 

"How is he? Will he be all right?" she asked softly, glancing down at Kenshin. 

Kenshin lifted his head and blinked up at her blearily. "I'm all right..." he mumbled indistinctly. "...just a little tired, is all..." He was having trouble keeping his eyes open. 

Watanabe tipped him over and lowered him onto his back, pulling the blanket over him properly. "There," he said. "Get some sleep." He didn't think Kenshin heard him. He smiled and got to his feet, brushing off his hands. 

"Well?" Akane prompted him. 

"He's exhausted, and he's lost a lot of blood," Watanabe answered her. "But he should be all right if those cuts don't get infected." He paused and glanced down at Kenshin, sound asleep on the floor. "Honestly though, I'm amazed Shinichiro didn't have to carry him back unconscious, with those injuries." 

"Um," Akane said. "Actually. He brought Shinichiro back. On a horse." 

Watanabe just looked at her. "You're kidding," he said. 

She shook her head slowly. 

Watanabe looked down, a bemused smile on his face. "Ah, the boundless energy of youth." 

o-o-o 

Kenshin slept for twenty-four hours straight. Akane hung around, watching him and worrying, compulsively checking him for signs of fever every hour. Every now and then she would wander around the house, doing a little tidying or washing a few dishes. 

Watanabe-sensei had left to replenish his supply of bandages and check in on another patient. Akane had sent Hideki back soon after, asking him to stop in at the restaurant on his way and let Eiko and Aki know she wouldn't be there for lunch. She'd felt a pang of guilt for leaving the two kids in charge without her so much lately. Well, it was good training for them. 

She'd cooked lunch for Eri at mid-day, then dinner once evening had come. Shinichiro had been awake by then, after dozing for several hours during the middle of the day, but he hadn't gotten up. Probably for the best. Eri took some broiled fish and rice in to him and brought him some books to read to pass the time. 

Eri was another worry. She'd been acting strange ever since the previous night. Akane figured it was probably the stress, but still, she'd shown it in an odd way. When Akane and Hideki had come by the house late last night in their search for Kenshin, Eri had already bathed and changed her clothes, putting on a sober and elegant forest-green kimono and doing her hair up carefully. She'd spent the whole night awake, too, sitting quietly in front of the household shrine. An odd way to worry about one's husband. But Akane couldn't say that she wouldn't have done the same. 

But now, now that Shinichiro was home, Eri still seemed distant. She hadn't wanted to chat at all, and the words she did exchange with Akane were cold and tense. To make matters worse, a customer had shown up at the door just after lunch, wanting to pick up a few garments. Eri had made the woman wait on the porch while she wrapped up the clothes, though she'd apologized profusely. The problem was Kenshin, asleep on the floor near the edge of the room. They'd been afraid to try to move him. So eventually they'd rigged up a partition from a kimono rack and a freestanding shoji screen so he could have a little privacy. The second customer Eri had let in, though only briefly. 

After Shinichiro had woken up later in the afternoon, Eri had spent close to an hour in the bedroom with him with the door closed. They'd been talking in low voices, too quiet for Akane to catch what they said from the living room, but Eri hadn't seemed any happier afterward. 

Watanabe-sensei had come back that evening to check on his patients and change their bandages. Kenshin had slept right through it. Shinichiro kept asking after him, which seemed to annoy Eri even more. She said less and less as the evening wore on. Well, she'd been up all the previous night, Akane rationalized; she had a right to be cranky. 

Akane spent the night there, in the second bedroom. She'd offered to stay, to help out with anything Shinichiro or Kenshin might need, and Eri hadn't turned her down. Kenshin woke up briefly the next morning, long enough to drink some tea and tell them he was just fine before falling asleep again. 


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

Another sunrise, clear again after yesterday's rain. Eri slid the last of the pins into her hair and re-straightened the sleeves of her kimono. It was the deep blue one, one of her favorites that she'd had for just ages. 

Shinichiro was sitting up on his futon, reading again. He'd started reading the evening before last after napping for most of the afternoon, and he'd read all through yesterday while rain fell past the windows, ignoring her and Akane, interrupted only by Watanabe-sensei's morning and evening visits to change his bandages. He'd plowed straight through their few books, some histories and a couple of works of political philosophy. It was something Shinichiro had been interested in before the revolution, and he'd picked up the books when he'd had a chance soon after they'd built the house several years ago, but he'd never really spent any time with them before. 

He'd set down the last one unfinished late last night when she'd finally chided him into putting out the light. He'd woken before her and dived back in, finishing it shortly after she woke up. She'd thought he'd stop then, but no, he'd cast around at a loss for a little while and then asked her for her copy of the 'Tales of Genji', ostensibly for its politico-historical interest. Well, once he finished that, he'd have to go out and buy some more if he wanted to read anything else. And he wasn't getting out of bed just yet. 

Eri got up and headed for the kitchen. She needed some tea, and there was a lot of work to be done. She'd neglected the household chores for the past several days. Akane had done some of it while she was here, but mostly she'd spent her time helping look after Shinichiro and Kenshin. By yesterday afternoon it had been clear that they were both out of danger, and Akane had gone home to cook for her dinner customers. 

Eri frowned at the stacks of cut cloth as she passed through the front room. She'd neglected her sewing as well. Normally she enjoyed doing it, but these past few days.... At first she'd been far too busy trying to figure out what Shinichiro was up to, and just hadn't had time to sew. After that, ever since her conversation with Kenshin just before he'd gone off in pursuit of her husband, she hadn't felt like sewing at all. It seemed trivial, frivolous. She'd mended the slashes in Kenshin's clothes after Akane had washed them -- she figured she owed him that at least -- but the dressmaking... Give it time, she told herself. 

Kenshin's partitioned-off alcove was quiet. He must not be awake yet. He'd slept for most of the previous day, on and off, seeming much more wiped out than Shinichiro had been. Eri had been secretly glad, though she felt guilty about it; it meant she didn't have to deal with him yet. She could almost pretend he wasn't there. Except Shinichiro kept asking her how he was. His other new obsession, besides reading. It was driving her up the wall. 

She shot an icy glare at the shoji screen. She'd have to check in on him in a little while, see if he needed anything. Too bad. She wished he would just disappear. It was her fault he was hurt in the first place. 

Eri turned towards the kitchen doorway and froze, momentarily speechless. 

Kenshin was standing at the sink, washing dishes and humming quietly to himself. He'd tied back his hair with a strip of scrap cloth and was dressed in his usual clothes, a piece of string cris-crossed around his shoulders to keep his sleeves out of the dishwater. Eri took this in in the moment before he sensed her presence and glanced back over his shoulder. 

"Ohayou gozaimas', Eri-dono!" he said happily, giving her a cheerful smile. "I'm almost done with the washing-up, that I am. I made some tea; I hope you don't mind. Would you like some?" He rinsed the bowl he was holding and laid it on the drying rack, then shook the water off his hands. 

Eri gaped at him. 

"I would have made some breakfast but I'm a terrible cook," Kenshin chattered on, stepping briskly over to the stove. He set down two cups and picked up the teapot, then looked back at her expectantly with bright eyes. But he'd been limping a little, and he was clearly favoring his right side. 

"Himura-san! You shouldn't be up!" 

He widened his eyes, putting on an innocent expression. "Oro?" 

"Don't you 'oro' me! Get back to bed! The doctor said three days, at the minimum!" 

"But I feel fine, that I do, and it's so boring..." 

"And you shouldn't be walking on that leg either; you'll pull out the stitches!" She took a step forward. Kenshin started backing up nervously, raising his hands in a placating gesture, still holding the teapot in one. 

"It's all right, Eri-dono, I took them out this morning, that I did..." 

"YOU WHAT!?" 

Kenshin froze, going a little pale. He'd bumped up against the wall next to the stove and could retreat no further. "Oro..." he whimpered. 

Eri stopped, closed her eyes, and counted silently to ten. Then she took a deep breath and opened them again. "All right," she said calmly. "You took out your stitches. Why?" 

"Just the ones in my leg!" Kenshin babbled defensively. "The cut's closed up already, and they were starting to bother me, that they were!" 

Eri laid her forehead on her palm and shook her head. May the gods have mercy on any woman who takes you as her own, she thought. Even Shinichiro was a pillar of sensibility by comparison. 

The pause lengthened. Kenshin spoke hesitantly. "Eri-dono? Are you all right?" 

She sighed and raised her head. "Yes, I'm fine. All right, let's have that tea. Pour a cup for Shinichiro too." 

Kenshin's smile returned. He fetched a third cup and filled them, then set the teapot back down on the stove and passed one over to her. She saw a brief flicker of pain cross his face as he turned to pick up the other two, but he'd hidden it by the time he turned back again. 

o-o-o 

Kenshin followed Eri into the bedroom, a cup of tea in each hand and a gentle smile on his face. He was suddenly unsure whether he was ready for this, but there was no way to back out now. 

He'd woken up early, finally feeling rested. After taking out his stitches and rebandaging his leg he'd sat against the wall for close to an hour, debating whether to get up. He didn't want to bother Eri. Yesterday, when he'd been awake, he'd sensed in her tension, hostility, even despair, carefully hidden under a distant politeness. What was making her feel that way? He didn't understand, but he suspected that his being there made it worse for her. That grim determination was gone from her eyes and she was no longer carrying around a dagger, but somehow this frightened him more. He'd decided he should leave, as soon as possible. He should go back to Akane's place, just until he was healed enough to travel, and then he should get out of this town for good. He'd given in to the boredom eventually and gotten up. Eri's kitchen had been a disaster area, full of dirty dishes. Wonderful. 

Shinichiro was sitting up on his futon, reading. He looked up when they entered, and his hazel eyes lit up, locking hungrily on Kenshin. "Himura!" 

Kenshin settled down on the cushion Eri had passed over to him and handed Shinichiro a cup of tea. 

Shinichiro tossed his book aside and leaned forward, his long face eager. "I've been wanting to talk to you." 

Kenshin smiled hesitantly. "I'm glad you're feeling better, that I am." Eri was frowning disapprovingly at Shinichiro from her cushion. Kenshin sipped his tea and tried not to squirm. 

o-o-o 

Eri listened, drinking her tea slowly, while Shinichiro chattered on animatedly. Her annoyance was growing again. Normally, Shinichiro wasn't one to talk so much. Normally, he was quiet and reserved. 

Shinichiro kept steering the conversation back to the revolution. Kenshin seemed to be growing increasingly uncomfortable. His replies to Shinichiro's questions were getting briefer and more vague as time went on. Now he was fidgeting with his empty cup, avoiding Shinichiro's eyes. 

She'd tried to change the subject a few times, and been ignored. This was pointless. "I'm going to make breakfast," she announced, and walked out, closing the door behind her. 

o-o-o 

"All right, Himura, you have to tell me now. Why the reversed blade?" Shinichiro was leaning forward, his eyes intense, his voice low and insistent. 

"Oro?" Kenshin looked up. He'd been distracted, trying not to listen too hard to Shinichiro's reminiscences. The cut in his side was hurting him again, too; maybe he shouldn't have lifted those heavy pots in the kitchen. But this he was willing to talk about. He perked up and set his cup on the floor. "When I left the Ishin Shishi I vowed not to kill, ever again. But the sword is the only thing I'm good at. This way, I can still protect the people around me, that I can." 

"Hm. Fair enough." Shinichiro was watching him intently. He seemed to be enjoying this. "But answer me something else then. You want to protect people, right? So why did you let Kobayashi and his friends live, when you know they'll go right on with their banditry?" 

Kenshin was taken aback. "I won't--" he began. 

Shinichiro leaned forward. "But it's bigger than that!" he continued, his eyes burning. "They want to start a war. No, they want to re-start the revolution! Tear down the Meiji government, and establish a better one in its place. Would you prevent that? Or would you fight for it?" 

"I--" 

"Would you kill for it? If it meant a better future? Would you sacrifice the lives of the people of today, to make a better world for the people of tomorrow?" 

Kenshin had tucked his toes under him and was starting to edge back. Shinichiro reached out suddenly and grabbed his wrist, stopping his retreat. "No!" Kenshin gasped, shocked. "Not after the revolution, not after--" 

"You have to think large-scale!" Shinichiro's voice was rising. He shook Kenshin's arm. "If you just focus on making things nice for the people around you, you could be sacrificing whole future generations! If you want to help people you have to do it from a position of power. It was stupid not to join the government when you had a chance! The lives of two or three people who just happened to be around you when they needed help are nothing compared to the conditions for the masses!" 

No, no, he couldn't think that way, it didn't work that way, no one's life was unimportant... Kenshin's heart had started to race unpleasantly. He had to get away from this! He pulled back, hard, trying to break Shinichiro's hold. But Shinichiro was a lot stronger. He tightened his grip, holding Kenshin immobile, his big hand wrapped all the way around Kenshin's wrist. Kenshin's fingers were starting to go numb. 

"We may have equality now, whatever that means, but the samurai aren't just going to disappear! If there's nothing for them to do within Japan, they're going to start to agitate for external wars. We had two hundred years of peace under Tokugawa, with the borders closed. How much longer do you think that's going to last now?" 

The door banged open. 

"Shinichiro!" Eri shrieked. "What are you doing!" 

Shinichiro released his grip and Kenshin shot to his feet, taking several quick steps backward. His hands were shaking. He hid them in his sleeves. 

"We were just--" Shinichiro started, suddenly defensive. 

Eri cut him off. "Stop badgering Himura-san! Can't you see he doesn't want to talk about the revolution?" She grabbed Kenshin by the elbow and shoved him out through the door. "I'll talk to you in a minute," she shot at Shinichiro, and banged the door shut again. 

"Eri-dono," Kenshin began, in a voice more shaky than he would have liked. 

Eri glared at him. "I must apologize for my husband," she snapped, her tone at odds with her words. "He hasn't been himself lately. Please make yourself comfortable here. I'll bring you some breakfast." She turned and started stalking back toward the kitchen. 

"Eri-dono, wait--" Kenshin had reached out after her, noticed the marks that Shinichiro's fingers had left on his wrist, and quickly hid his hand back in his sleeve. Eri turned around. Her gray eyes had softened, sadness mixing with her anger. 

"Please don't trouble yourself over me," Kenshin continued gently. "I'm in your way here, that I am. Maybe it would be best if I go back to Akane-dono's house." He saw the relief in her eyes, and knew that this was the right thing to do. 


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

Eri stormed into Akane's back garden, her fists clenched, anger covering her very real fear. There he was, scrubbing laundry in the cool afternoon sunshine, a blissful smile on his face like this was his favorite thing to do in the whole world. He looked much better. A week had done him a world of good. She didn't want to see it undone again. 

Kenshin looked up from behind the laundry tub, saw her expression, and blanched, his smile freezing in place. 

Eri didn't slow down. "Get inside. Now." 

"Oro? --Ow!" 

She'd grabbed him by the arm and hauled him after her, into the kitchen, and slid the door shut. No one here. Good. She could hear someone bustling around in the dining room, cleaning tables. Kenshin had pressed his back against the wall of the little entry way, standing very still, watching her with alarm. 

"Sakurai's looking for you," she rasped, her voice harsh and rapid. Kenshin stared at her. His expression hadn't changed. She waved her hands. "Sakurai, Sakurai, the tall one with the long black hair. He's here, in town." 

Kenshin's eyes widened. 

"He stopped me in the market. Asked where you were. I told him you'd left town." Eri paused. That wasn't fear on his face. It was-- wonder? 

"I'm going." Kenshin pulled open the door and ducked under her arm, slipping out before she could stop him. "Tell Akane-dono I'll be right back, that I will!" He ran across the garden, gathering speed, sweeping up his sword from beside the laundry tub without breaking stride. 

o-o-o 

Kenshin sprinted up the narrow streets of the warehouse district toward the market. Sakurai! He hadn't gone to Satsuma. He hadn't gone to re-start the war. He'd come back. 'I hope I have the chance to meet you again...' 

Kenshin paused at the bottom of the market, breathing hard, one hand holding the ribs on his right side. It still hurt; the cut had closed up days ago but the bruising was slow to heal. 

The street was full of people. He stood on tiptoes and tried to peer over their heads. 

There! Up a couple of blocks, just before the road curved a little and was lost to view behind some shop buildings. A man on a horse, heading up the road at a brisk walk, long black ponytail down his back. 

Sakurai. And he'd gotten his horse back. Kenshin started to push through the crowds after him, then stopped. Sakurai had nudged the horse into a trot and was already out of sight. Kenshin wouldn't be able to catch him. 

He gazed up the market the way Sakurai had gone, remembering the other man's reactions that morning in the clearing in the woods. Maybe Sakurai had indeed changed his mind. Kenshin smiled. In any case, he was sure Sakurai would have an interesting life. 

o-o-o 

Eri drifted through the market, a few fish in the bag under her arm. She had to keep cooking meals. It wouldn't be right to just stop. She had to feed Shinichiro. 

His strange intensity hadn't let up. If anything, it had gotten worse since he'd healed enough to be up and about. He'd re-read all the books, and then started writing things down -- phrases, lists, scribbled paragraphs. When she'd left the house this morning to go shopping there had been papers strewn all over the living room, Shinichiro with a brush in his hand and an excited, zealous expression on his face. 

She had been ready to die. That night, when Shinichiro had gone out with his swords to commit the unforgiveable. But Kenshin had made that unnecessary. He had brought Shinichiro back. But he'd brought back a changed man. This wasn't her Shinichiro. Her Shinichiro was-- Her Shinichiro-- 

Her Shinichiro was striding briskly up the market street, his brown hair swinging jauntily above his shoulders, a book open in one hand and two others under his arm. He was smiling, with that intense light still in his eyes. He hadn't seen her yet. 

Eri froze, a sudden sense of deja-vu sweeping over her as she remembered the second time she'd met him. 

The first time had been a formal meeting arranged by her parents. They'd talked politely, shyly; nothing much had happened. 

The second time had been different. He'd been walking down the street of their home town with his nose in a book. He'd almost run into her, looking up just in time and catching her in his arms to keep her from falling. There'd been a light in his eyes then, a startled smile on his face. She'd fallen in love with that light. 

Eri's heart thumped. The light was back in his eyes. Had been back for days, and she hadn't even seen it, had even been annoyed by his newfound intensity. 

The light had gone out of him during the revolution. When she'd found him, on the run, it had been gone, but there'd been no time then to think about it, they'd been too worried about just surviving. He'd been lost, adrift. She'd taken charge, driven their lives forward, made sure they survived, stopped their wandering at the first chance that looked really safe, built their livelihood and their home. She'd kept going, living for both of them. It had been fun, most of the time. But something had always been missing. 

Shinichiro looked up, and saw her. There was a light in his eyes, a startled smile on his face. Eri had fallen in love with that light. 

o-o-o 

Hideki untied the last rope and threw it up to the sailor on the deck. "All right!" he bellowed over the breeze and the slapping of the harbor waves. "You're good; push back!" The sailor waved and nodded. The ship creaked and edged away from the shore. 

Akane was suddenly beside him, flustered and out of breath. 

"Hey nee-chan, you almost slept too late," he joked. Akane liked to watch the ship launches, despite their usual early hour. 

She grinned at him and set a package proudly on the top of the seawall. "Nope! I got up early. I made you rice-balls; that's what almost made me late." 

"Thanks! How did you know I didn't have breakfast?" 

"Heh heh, we have ways." 

They leaned their elbows on the seawall, watching the ship slosh up and down a few feet from the dock, the sailors running around busily on deck. 

Akane looked happy, at last. She'd been a little anxious these past three weeks, worrying about Eri. But Eri was better now. Hideki had seen her two days ago when she'd come in to arrange delivery of a bunch of printed cotton and pick out a few new needles from his shipment of ironwares. There'd been a glow to her, like a girl in love. 

"Have you talked to Eri lately?" he asked her. 

She nodded, smiling. "Yesterday. I'm so glad. She seemed so depressed before. I thought I'd lost her as a friend." Akane turned around and leaned back on the wall on her elbows, gazing up at the roofs of the far east end of town, visible as they marched up the hill above the first row of warehouses across the harbor plaza. The sky was gray with a smooth layer of cloud, but bright. "I think she must have been afraid for Shinichiro. He could've been killed that night. I think she couldn't stop thinking about it until he'd gotten better." 

Hideki nodded, still watching the water. "Shinichiro's changed," he said. 

"Yeah. It's funny, it's like this is the real him, that's been hidden inside all this time." She laughed. "Eri told me he's started writing a book. A book! Can you believe it?" 

Hideki grinned. "This isn't a very scholarly place. Half the people in this town can't even read." 

"Yeah, I know, and so does Shinichiro. Eri said he's talking about starting a school. For the kids." She smiled. "Heh. He'll double the market for his book. If they can tackle it. Eri said it's some kind of history. Sounds boring to me." 

Akane had turned again, looking down the curve of the harbor at the few fishing boats back so far from their morning runs. 

"How's Kenshin?" Hideki asked. 

She looked back at him. "Fine," she said. "Completely healed." She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and grinned. "He's so much more interesting when he's not lying in bed." She turned back to the fishing boats, watching them bob up and down. "I think he's getting ready to go wandering again," she continued. "He's been here a month almost." 

Hideki watched her watch the boats for a little while. "You'll miss him," he said. 

Akane shrugged. "He's certainly made things more interesting around the restaurant." She turned back towards him and grinned, suddenly animated. "Oh, you should have seen him yesterday! I was so glad it finally stopped raining; he's been just bouncing off the walls the last few days. I thought it would drive me crazy!" She waved her arms. "Anyway, Aki-kun brought his two little sisters over during the afternoon and Kenshin was just tearing around the back garden playing with them. He tired them out." 

"Hah. Yasunori-kun could have used some of that energy yesterday. We had to load up the ironwares. You should have sent him over." 

"Hands off, he's mine," Akane said, mock-serious. "No, really, if you need some extra help just let me know. Aki and Eiko can practically run the restaurant on their own by now." 

"Hm." 

They stood for a while, watching the water. The ship had finally pushed back from the dock and was tacking its way slowly across the harbor, using only its small front sail. 

"Those girls need a mother," Akane commented softly. 

"Hm?" 

She shook her head. "Nothing. Just thinking." 

The ship turned and tacked, its sail refilling with a distant fwump. The wind fluttered Akane's hair. She hooked a loose strand behind her ear. "Aki finally got up the nerve to ask Eiko-chan out on a date." 

Hideki raised his eyebrows. "Did he really? I thought he'd never do it." 

"Yeah, so did I. He must have noticed the way Eiko-chan was mooning over Kenshin those first couple of days and figured he'd better act soon or lose his chance." 

Hideki leaned on the seawall, thoughtful, scraping at a lichen with his fingernail. "You know," he said slowly. "It's Kenshin. He changes people. Just by being there." He looked up at his sister. "Aki, the Yukawas... He changes everyone he touches." 

"Heh." Akane smiled and leaned her elbows on the wall next to him. "Except us." 

Hideki gazed out at the gray water, towards the far horizon. The ship was past the breakwater now, raising its square mainsail. The wind caught it and it billowed, suddenly taut. The ship leaned against the wind, gathering speed ever so slowly, growing smaller, until it was skimming away out onto the wide ocean. 

"...Yes," he said at last. "Except us." 

o-o-o 

Kenshin heard the clacking of Eri's wooden clogs on the cobblestones of the harbor plaza long before she caught up with him. He slowed down, waiting for her. The sound of her clogs changed as she pounded onto the packed earth of the road. 

"Himura-san!" she yelled. "Wait!" 

Kenshin looked back over his shoulder, through his red bangs, his eyes wide and innocent. "Oro?" 

Eri slowed to a halt and leaned her hands on her knees, catching her breath. "I wanted to give this back to you, before you left." She fished something soft out of her kimono sleeve and handed it to Kenshin. 

"My scarf?" 

"You left it at our place. I finally got the stains washed out of it." 

Kenshin smiled and looped it around his neck. Eri was watching him. 

"You are leaving, aren't you." 

Kenshin nodded. "It's time to go wandering again, that it is." He picked up his bag from the road, full of rice and vegetables and dried fish thanks to Akane. 

"Will we ever see you again?" 

His eyebrows tilted, a little sadly. "Probably not." 

"Where will you go?" 

Kenshin shrugged. "Somewhere. There're still lots of places I haven't wandered to yet." He slung the bag over his shoulder and gave her a big smile. "Thank you, Eri-dono." He turned with a cheerful wave and walked on. 

Eri was standing still. He could feel her eyes on his back. She called after him again suddenly. "Kenshin!" 

He stopped, surprised at the change. "Oro?" He looked back over his shoulder again, his eyes wide. 

Eri was smiling at him knowingly. "I hope you find what you're looking for." 

Kenshin's smile slipped. What I'm looking for? I'm not looking for anyth-- 

An image from a dream flashed through his mind. An outstretched hand, okaeri.... His eyes widened. 

"See you, Kenshin." Eri waved, a small polite gesture, and turned back toward the plaza. 

He watched her go, speechless for several seconds. "Arigatou, Eri-dono," he called after her. "Sayonara!" Then he smiled again, and turned once more to wandering. 

--OWARI-- 


End file.
